


Sugar is Sweet (and So Are You)

by Syntaxeme



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: (but not for Val because fuck that), (it's for someone else), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor exploring his feelings about sex, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust trying out the sugar baby thing, Bratting, Jealousy, M/M, Nice Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Pining, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma, Redemption, Sex Worker Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Sugar Daddy, Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Virgin Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), and surprising no one by becoming a spoiled brat, and surprising no one by subsequently becoming a Dom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: Plagued by jealousy toward the men Angel sleeps with, Alastor comes up with a plan to keep Angel from having to work the streets. Even though it's not what he expected, he finds that being Angel's sugar daddy does come with certain benefits that are too sweet to give up. The question is whether Angel will ever allow their relationship to evolve from a business transaction to something more genuine--and even if he wants to, will his former employer allow it?
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Husk (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 143
Kudos: 765





	1. A Taste of What You've Paid For

For the third night in a row, Alastor watched from the lobby as Angel left with an unfamiliar demon, a ‘client’ to whom he’d sold his company for the evening. And for the third time, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, it bothered him to see it happen.

“Are we certain this doesn’t qualify as sin?” he mused vaguely in Charlie’s direction, while she was seated on one of the sofas nearby and hard at work on her redemption curriculum for their patrons. She’d discovered that the others responded positively to her presence and direct guidance in their efforts at reforming their behavior, and naturally, she was willing to do whatever was necessary to help them improve. “It seems like very cut-and-dried Lust to my eye. And who knows what other debauchery he might be getting up to while in the hands of someone who doesn’t bother with virtue? He may be tempted into backsliding. I can’t imagine these outings are conducive to his rehabilitation.”

“I’ve already told you ten times, Alastor: I can’t tell Angel what he can or can’t do,” she reminded him, looking up from her notes for a moment. “The program only works if it’s a willful decision on his part. Maybe I don’t totally agree with it, but whatever he wants to do with his body is still up to him.”

“…I suppose,” Alastor agreed mildly.

“Of course, if there’s some _other_ reason you don’t want him working…” Her tone was all too knowing for his taste. “You could always tell him that yourself. Who knows, it might change his mind.”

“Some other reason?” The Radio Demon was sure to keep his voice as even as possible. “I don’t know what you could mean, dear.”

“Alastor, come on—” Charlie set her notes aside, and Alastor suddenly sensed a lecture coming, so he didn’t give her the opportunity to deliver it.

“Babe, can I get a hand with this?” Vaggie’s voice sounded from the conference room where she and Charlie had been holding their little group therapy sessions of late, and although Charlie frowned slightly at the interruption, she still wouldn’t refuse a request from her partner.

“Gimme just a second,” she told Alastor as she headed for the conference room.

“Take your time.” As soon as she was out of sight, he disappeared up the stairs to his own room. By the time she realized that Vaggie hadn’t actually called her and it was just a clever bit of sound manipulation on Alastor’s part, he would be safely out of range of her surprisingly effective emotional prying. Within their past few months of working together, he had learned that he was wrong to discount her ability to sway the thoughts and feelings of others, as her overly-optimistic attitude had proven dangerous to even the most stubborn minds. All well and good for their purposes, and he had to commend her for being so persuasive, but he didn’t much relish the idea of it being used against him.

She had been trying for some time already to make him acknowledge this…thing he felt toward Angel, and he’d rigidly avoided it every single time, but it seemed to grow more difficult every day. Every day he spent in Angel’s company, trading playful jabs with him, being repeatedly surprised by his insights, learning more about his history, and admiring his smile, it grew harder for him to pretend he didn’t feel. Something. Something viscerally unfamiliar and therefore disturbing but undeniably pleasant nevertheless.

This attachment he was forming had proven a problem in more ways than one. First, his independent nature—or ‘pathology,’ as some had called it in the past—violently rejected the concept of caring for anyone or anything outside himself. His instinct, then, was to remove the source of those feelings altogether, whether by cutting off interaction with the offending individual or through more…permanent means. Thus, every time he saw Angel, a battle raged within him, a question of whether he should try to confess his feelings or simply wring the spider’s neck and be done with it.

Beyond that, there was the matter of watching him leave with other men, knowing exactly (or approximately) what he planned to do with them, and being consumed with a sort of jealousy he had no idea how to process. It wasn’t that Alastor wanted any sort of sexual attention from Angel himself. But he hated the idea that anyone else should have it either.

And if that was the case, what _did_ he want, really? He’d heard Angel say time and again that romance was not his forte, and while they were certainly matched in that respect, it sounded as if Angel was even more averse to it than Alastor himself. He liked sex and made no secret of it, but anything more sentimental than that was a complete turn-off. So even if Alastor had wanted to come clean, it would be counterproductive and only create more distance between them. Of course, his heart couldn’t make this easy on him by attaching to someone who could potentially return his feelings. No, if he was going to get romantically involved with anyone, it had to be the most difficult target imaginable.

Safely locked in his own room, he sank to sit on his bed and dropped his head for a heavy sigh. Maybe he should try expressing his feelings, if only in the hopes that Angel would reject them outright; at least then, he would know for sure and wouldn’t have to suffer through the agonizing ordeal of hoping that something good might happen. But at the same time, the idea of opening up only to be rejected made his skin crawl.

Surely there had to be some middle ground between complete honesty and complicit silence. Surely there was something he could do to alleviate his misery over seeing Angel with someone else without explaining why it made him miserable in the first place.

**— — —**

Angel arrived home late and slept in the follow morning, as per usual after his nights out ‘working.’ Alastor had spent the entire time plotting out a confrontation and had a plan that he felt would be effective without giving away too much about his own motivations. Around 11 a.m., which he happened to know was about the time Angel Dust would leave his room after a busy night, Alastor went to the top floor and knocked on the door of room 723. A loud, exaggerated groan came from inside, and Alastor couldn’t help smiling wider, amused as ever by Angel’s theatrics.

“Haven’t I told you people before? Ya don’t get to bug me for twelve hours minimum after I get in,” he called, finally opening the door and draping his lengthy body against its frame. He wore a dangerously short pink robe that exposed most of his legs, matching slippers on his feet, a satiny eye mask pushed up from his eyes, and an irritated expression—which quickly turned to curious surprise as he saw Alastor there. “Huh. Outta everybody that coulda been wakin’ me up, you ain’t the one I expected. Did Charlie send ya?”

“No, actually,” Alastor answered with a shake of his head. “And I do apologize for disrupting your beauty sleep, considering how much you claim to need it. I wanted to speak to you before you’re otherwise occupied. On that note, _are_ you occupied this evening?”

Angel blinked, seeming confused by the question. “Are you…askin’ if I got a john lined up for tonight?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I was”— _deep breaths, now_ —“hoping to buy some of your time myself,” Alastor explained. As Angel’s eyes grew wide, he quickly continued, “Not for my own gratification, of course, but to give you the option to stay here at the hotel rather than going out among all the dangers and temptations of Hell.”

“Lemme get this straight.” Angel stood up properly, two hands on his hips while another swept the mask off his head. “You wanna pay me _not_ to have sex.”

“That’s one way of phrasing it.” And when put that way, it certainly did sound like he had ulterior motives. “It’s only an offer, of course. You’re free to say no. I just assumed that the reason you were still working was for the sake of your income, and if that’s the case, I don’t mind supplying it myself.”

“You’re talkin’ like this is more than just one night ya got in mind. How much of my ‘time’ are you plannin’ to buy?”

“…as much as is available for the foreseeable future?” Alastor suggested, tilting his head to one side.

“You sure about that? I know this probably ain’t the sorta thing you do often, so you should know what you’re gettin’ into. We’re talkin’ hundreds just for one night.”

The Radio Demon chuckled. “If you’re concerned about my budget, don’t be. I’ve accrued entirely too much wealth over the years and never know what to spend it on. This seems as good a use as any. What do you think?”

“Hmm.” Angel shifted from one foot to the other as he considered, and Alastor forced his eyes to remain on the spider’s face rather than drifting toward his switching hips. “Y’know what? Why the hell not? I never done the sugar baby thing before, but it can’t be any harder than turnin’ tricks.”

“Sugar _what_?” Alastor choked out, his voice spiking slightly with static.

“I mean, that’s basically what you’re sayin’, isn’t it?” Angel leaned in closer, bending down the little that was necessary to put his eyes level with Alastor’s. And it was clear by the look on his face that he very much enjoyed this part of the discussion. “You’re sayin’ you’ll pay my way so I don’t hafta work, and in exchange, ya want me to not sleep with anybody else. That’s a sugar daddy arrangement if I ever heard one.”

“I. I think you may be making some assumptions about my intentions,” Alastor protested, trying hard to maintain his composure. Maybe the reason he was getting so flustered was that Angel was absolutely right in those assumptions: his undivided attention _was_ what Alastor wanted. “I told you, I’m not looking to—”

“Hey, ya don’t hafta explain anything to me. As long as you got the cash, I ain’t about to fight with ya about it. I bet it’ll be a nice change of pace.” He held out one hand expectantly, and it took Alastor a moment to realize what he wanted.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to the others,” he muttered at length, conceding not to argue the point any further as he handed over his billfold. The delighted smile that spread across Angel’s face was enough to convince him that maybe this wasn’t so terrible an arrangement, even if it wasn’t the one he’d expected.

“Whatever you say,” Angel purred, taking a few bills out of the wallet and folding them to tuck them into his chest fluff. He then offered the billfold back to Alastor—but as he reached to accept it, Angel leaned down and planted a kiss on his cheekbone. With a playful wink, he added, “Daddy. Now I need a couple more hours to recoup from the night I just had, but after that, you can have as much of my attention as ya want. Sound good?”

Unable to form a more eloquent response at the moment, Alastor could only nod, and Angel shut the door to go back to bed. The conversation could’ve gone worse, technically. He could have said no altogether. He could’ve been offended that Alastor wanted his time but not his services. But he’d agreed to the whole thing readily enough, so readily that Alastor almost wondered if he _wanted_ a way out of his typical work schedule.

The Radio Demon took a step back, then wandered down the hall, a bit dazed. This…arrangement they’d come to was, if possible, even less familiar to him than the standard form of romantic/sexual involvement, and he was more than a little apprehensive about approaching it. But then, as Angel himself had said, it meant that Alastor now had a monopoly on his time and attention. That prospect, he didn’t mind at all. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try out the new dynamic and see how it would function. Maybe this solution he’d stumbled on by accident could be the one he’d been looking for all along.

Only time would tell.


	2. Cravings Start Early

Alastor wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself after his conversation with Angel, but he felt he should be doing _something_. After some time of pacing around his own room, running his mind in circles trying to figure out what was expected of him here, he was forced to concede that he simply didn’t have the information necessary to make that determination. So he would have to seek someone who did. He went down to the lobby to sit at the bar with a visibly-hungover Husk and asked for his usual—gin and tonic, hold the gin.

“Husker,” he ventured carefully, swirling the tonic water in his glass. His friend (though he used the term loosely) grunted in response. “Would I be right to assume you’ve had some experience with. Er. _Filles de joie?_ ”

“First of all, dial down the volume,” Husk grumbled flatly, squeezing his head between his hands as if that might alleviate his headache. “And second, speak English.”

“You know. Working girls. Ladies of the night. Cocettes? Streetwalkers?” How many ways could he say it gently?

“Hookers.”

“…yes.”

“Sure,” Husk agreed with a shrug, resting heavily against the bar. “But what’s it to you? Since when d’you care about that kinda shit?”

“Oh, I don’t. In so many words. But I’ve always been a curious sort, and since I don’t have any personal experience of my own, I figure a secondhand account is better than none,” Alastor explained. The two had known each other long enough that inquiries like this weren’t entirely out of the ordinary, as there were plenty of things about society—mortal or demon—that Alastor had only seen at a distance. Husk, on the other hand, had seen and done quite a lot in his years and could be very helpful when he chose to be.

“Don’t know what you’re gonna do with it, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. Whaddaya wanna know?” He groped absently along the bar for the tumbler of gin he’d withheld from Alastor’s drink and tossed it back all at once, then immediately got dizzy and regretted the sudden motion. “Just. Keep it down.”

“It’s my understanding that escorts, like many other professionals, have regular clients,” Alastor answered, lowering his voice slightly, more because he didn’t want to be overheard having this particular discussion than for the sake of his friend’s comfort. “But I’m not sure what sort of relationship that constitutes.”

“Like you said, a professional one,” Husk told him. “It’s a job, and a client’s a client. No matter how many times ya see ‘em, that doesn’t change.”

“I see. So…that dynamic isn’t likely to develop into something else?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Somethin’ else like what? A gal doesn’t date a john if that’s what you’re askin’.” He was answering almost automatically, not bothering to question where this curiosity had come from. “I hear when a guy starts gettin’ ideas like that, most ‘workin’ girls’ are pretty quick to cut him off.”

Which was exactly what Alastor was afraid of, considering what he knew of Angel Dust. But then, maybe there was a difference if the escort in question had only one patron. Maybe whatever he was getting into with Angel didn’t have exactly the same rules. “In a slightly different vein, then, what about…” Even saying the word felt like an admission, like an embarrassment. But he truly needed some sort of reference point before he got into this, so he had no choice. “Sugaring. The sort of arrangement where—”

“Yeah, I know how it works,” Husk said, waving him off. “Not my thing, though. Too much commitment.”

Well. That was a positive thing, wasn’t it? In terms of what Alastor actually wanted from his interactions with Angel? Commitment, as far as he was concerned, meant exclusivity, which his jealous tendencies certainly appreciated. “Commitment. On the part of the client, you mean?”

“Sure. Once you tell ‘em they can rely on you, they’re gonna. And that means you hafta be able to deliver. Money. Presents. Dates. Whatever she wants, you hand it over.”

None of that sounded bad to Alastor, not if it was Angel he was spoiling; if his previously-idle money could provide enjoyment or satisfaction for the object of his affections, why not let it do so? ‘Dates’ would even mean they were enjoying time _together_. How could that be negative? “And in return…?”

Husk shrugged again. “She sleeps with you and pretends she likes you. Ain’t worth it if ya ask me.”

Alastor’s eager smile faded slightly. ‘Pretends’? That could be an issue. Even if he hadn’t yet expressed it, the attention and affection he wanted from Angel was the genuine sort, not something motivated purely by money. Maybe he was being greedy in hoping for something like that, when the point of this plan had simply been to stop Angel sleeping with _other_ men. But after the spider’s welcoming attitude and that kiss earlier, he was now starting to hope (a four-letter word if ever there was one) that more might come of it.

As he was trying to decide how to word his next question, the lobby elevator dinged, and Charlie marched out of it, dragging a fully-clothed but obviously reluctant Angel Dust by his wrist. “Don’tcha have night classes or somethin’ I could take? You two givin’ out drinks at this thing?” he grumbled, trudging along behind Charlie without otherwise protesting. When he caught sight of Alastor, his expression shifted from annoyance to a sweet smile. “Hey, boys. Room for one more?”

“Come on, Angel, it’s bad enough that we’re late already,” Charlie scolded.

“What she said,” Husk muttered, his ears turning back and downward at the voices ringing through the lobby. “Get to your fuckin’ meeting already.”

As they walked past on their way to the conference room, where Vaggie and several of their other patrons were already gathered, Angel paused to steal another kiss to Alastor’s cheek, causing Charlie’s eyes to open wide even as he casually strolled past her. The Radio Demon refused to look anywhere near their proprietor, grasping his glass tighter and trying to pretend he didn’t notice her eyes boring into him. She must have taken the hint eventually, as she disappeared into the conference room and shut the doors to begin their meeting, allowing the tension in Alastor’s body to dissipate, at least somewhat.

“Y’know, no one could blame you if ya smacked him when he does that shit,” Husk pointed out, still dispassionate, illustrating with a swipe of his own dangerous claws. “After a couple times, he’ll get the picture, trust me.”

Now this was unusual. Alastor couldn’t recall ever having felt so violently vengeful on the behalf of another person before. He’d never borne Husk any ill will in the past. _That said_ , the thought that he had at some point struck Angel instilled in Alastor a powerful urge to tear out his feathers one by one and then stab them all back in.

“I’m sure violence isn’t necessary,” he said instead, forcibly shoving those images to the back of his mind and reminding himself that Angel had proven more than once already that he could take care of himself. “Maybe he just needs a proper focus for his energy…”

“Hey, if you wanna volunteer, be my guest,” Husk snickered without smiling.

Their conversation was interrupted by an unfamiliar demon nervously slinking into the lobby, looking to check himself in. Alastor quickly shifted into salesman mode to secure another patron and get him set up in his own room. After a whirlwind tour of the establishment, which put him back in his element and did wonders to take his mind off any other concerns he might have at the moment, they made their way back down to the lobby.

“And if I’m not much mistaken, Charlie and the others should be finishing up another session just now,” he crowed, still leading the new arrival with an arm around his shoulders and gesturing to the conference room doors. “She’ll want to welcome you personally, of course, and discuss your goals and expectations for your stay.”

His prediction didn’t come a moment too soon, as the double doors swung open to release the handful of lesser demons who had been gathered for Charlie’s group counseling session. Alastor led the newest member of their merry band of misfits to the princess to call her attention. “Charlie, this fine fellow is—remind us of your name, my good man.”

“Knix,” the burly gent answered, apparently having some trouble with looking anyone in the eye.

“A new arrival!” Alastor concluded, and Charlie beamed at the thought, as always.

“Welcome to the Hazbin! I’m Charlie, and that’s Vaggie”—she indicated her partner, who was straightening up the conference room on her own—“and we run the group meetings. How did you hear about us? What inspired you to come in? Tell me everything there is to know about you.” While she was haranguing the poor fellow to within an inch of his life, Alastor conceded that his work was done and took a step back to watch Charlie’s protégés disperse to their own rooms.

He recognized one self-involved feline named Davronius, a rabbitlike misanthrope simply called Io, an elegant and aloof owlish demon who went by Donatella—but no spiders. Odd, considering how often Charlie held Angel Dust up as her ‘star pupil,’ the exemplar of the hotel’s efficacy. And he typically basked in the attention it got him. Maybe he was still talking with one of his fellow recovering sinners? What a ridiculous thing for Alastor to be jealous of. _And yet…_

A flash of color darted between the guests and into the conference room, then back out only a moment later. Niffty stood to one side of the doors, her face screwed up into a pout, her eye darting around the room to seek out imperfections. She must have been in a _mood_ , further evidenced by her scurrying over to the stairs to fuss at a guest who was leaning against the banister. Once he had backed off, intimidated despite her tiny stature, she whipped a handkerchief from her pocket and started to polish his fingerprints off the otherwise-pristine wood.

“You know,” Alastor said, strolling in her direction, “the banister can’t serve its purpose if you won’t let anyone touch it.”

“Well maybe if they washed their hands once in a while, it wouldn’t bother me,” she answered testily. “Besides, Vaggie already cleaned up after the meeting, so I don’t have anything else to do. I have to do _something_.” That was a fair point; there was too much energy in her little form to stand still for long. If she tried, she might spontaneously combust.

“And the entire hotel is already spick-and-span from top to bottom?”

She shot him what he had come to recognize as her version of a glare. “What d’you think I was doing _during_ the meeting? We only have sixteen occupied rooms, and all the empty ones don’t get messy. You don’t even let me go in your room, so it might as well be fifteen. The new guy just got here, so it’s basically fourteen! And now Angel’s not here leaving dirty dishes in the lobby or doing target practice in the common area—”

“N҉o҉t҉ ҉h҉e҉r҉e҉?” There was a scratch of static in Alastor’s voice that he tried to will away as he asked casually, “A҉ng҉el ҉isn’t here? Where is he?” There were only so many reasons he would leave, and considering his recent track record, Alastor was quick to assume the worst.

“He left with some lady while you were upstairs with the new guy,” Niffty explained, flicking her handkerchief briefly in the direction of Knix, who was still in mostly one-sided conversation with Charlie. “His manager, I think.”

That statement was confusing for a few reasons. First, the only person Alastor knew of who could be called Angel’s ‘manager’ was a fellow Overlord named Valentino—a man. Furthermore, Angel had mentioned some time ago that he and Valentino were no longer working together, and Alastor had noted the improvement in his mood since.

But most importantly, the manager issue shouldn’t have applied at all, considering what they had agreed upon earlier in the day. His time shouldn’t need to be managed. _Or if anyone is managing it, it should be me._ He realized immediately how possessive and controlling that idea was and chastised himself for it. Yet it didn’t change how he felt. This day had come to involve entirely too many feelings, the way he saw it, and he was beginning to get exhausted. Since Angel wasn’t there to explain himself at the moment, Alastor was sure to drive himself up a wall fixating on the problem—unless he had something else to do.

“Do you know what always lifts my spirits when I’m distraught, dear?” he mused, glancing in Niffty’s direction again.

A delighted smile lit up her face and banished any lingering frustration. “A good meal?”

“That’s exactly right. In fact—Charlie!” he called, striding across the room to meet his co-manager with Niffty on his heels. “I hate to interrupt your onboarding discussion, but would you be so kind as to let all our guests know that I’ll be serving dinner this evening?”

“You’re cooking? That’s great! I’ll make sure everyone’s there,” she assured him. With a sly smile, she pointed out, “You sure seem like you’re in a good mood today. Any particular reason for that?”

“When am I ever not in a good mood? Especially when we have a new guest to welcome.” He gave a brief pat to her head, refusing to acknowledge what she was implying, and swept off to the kitchen with Niffty to occupy himself with something he knew how to control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, there isn't much Angel content in this chapter--but how can Alastor pine if Angel is _present_ all the time, right? Anyway, the next chapter is entitled "Dinner and Dessert," and it should be out soon. 💖


	3. Dinner & Dessert

Niffty was as apt and eager a sous chef as one could hope for, not only happy to follow directions to a T but intent on keeping their workspace neat at the same time. Concentrating on cooking had the desired effect of keeping Alastor too busy to fret over Angel’s absence (or anything else regarding him), and it wasn’t until around 7, as he was finishing up his cooking, that he was forcibly reminded of those concerns.

“Mm, it smells amazing in here,” Angel called as he entered the room, and Alastor had to force himself not to look back at him. Niffty had already gone off to set things up in the second floor ballroom, so they were alone in the kitchen. “Whatcha makin’?”

“Etouffee and rice. Blackened snapper filets. Maque choux.” He indicated each dish on the stove and counter respectively. “Though that has tasso in it, so someone who isn’t comfortable eating pork should probably avoid it.” It was still somewhat amusing that Angel eschewed pork products purely because he had a pet pig, while Alastor himself had never been squeamish about meat from _any_ source. To each his own, he supposed.

“Shit, you musta been at it for hours, then.” The spider came over to lean against the counter at his side and leaned toward the pan of etouffee Alastor was stirring with a wooden spoon, opening his mouth expectantly. “Aah…”

The Radio Demon’s eyes narrowed, and instead of complying, he used his free hand to push Angel’s chin upward and close his mouth again. “You’ll be able to try it when everyone else does. Assuming you didn’t have dinner while you were out.”

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t get _any_ special treatment? Are ya mad at me or somethin’?”

“Where have you been?” Alastor asked, ignoring the question, then added, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Ooh, you are mad. Ya gonna punish me?” Angel purred. When he saw that Alastor’s expression was utterly devoid of amusement, he sighed and shook his head. “Take a better look at me and see if ya can’t guess.” Posing against the edge of the counter, he ran one hand through his hair (which Alastor now noticed had been styled and formed into loose curls) and used the lower pair to smooth the magenta dress he was wearing (a daring halter number that covered his chest but bared his shoulders—not a familiar part of his existing wardrobe). His nails were painted to match, and the shoes looked new as well.

“You went…shopping?”

“Among other things. Just a little self-care day, a little pampering. Because I deserve it. Don’t I, Daddy?” he concluded with a playful smirk that said there was only one correct answer.

“I suppose.” Alastor wasn’t sure what it was about that new title Angel had given him that flustered him so. It wasn’t any sort of disconcerting Freudian paraphilia, he was sure. Maybe it was the way Angel said it, as an indication of familiarity and the role he’d been cast in this relationship. An admission of authority. It made him feel…powerful. Powerful in a way he wasn’t used to feeling.

“What’d you think, I was runnin’ off to meet some other guy?” Angel asked, hitting the nail exactly on the head. “Why should I when you already said you’re takin’ care of me? I wouldn’t’ve figured you were the kinda guy to get jealous that easily, but it’s sweet you wanna keep me to yourself.”

 _You have no idea._ “And the woman you were with?” the Radio Demon prompted, finally deciding that his etouffee was ready to be served and taking it off the heat. As he was arranging the various dishes on a catering trolley to take them upstairs, he continued, “The one who pulled you out of your meeting with Charlie for all this?”

“She’s my manager. Or she was, I guess. I told her about this”—Angel gestured between the two of them—“earlier, and she wanted the details. Then I was already out, I had some cash to burn, and I figured I should show ya what you’re payin’ for here.” As Alastor was rolling his sleeves back down and readjusting his cuffs, Angel stepped in close to drape his arms over the Radio Demon’s shoulders. He also caught Alastor’s hands to pull them around his own waist, drawing their bodies close together and demanding his attention. “So, you like? Or should I be tryin’ harder?” If he tried much harder, Alastor’s poor heart was likely to give out from overexertion.

“You do look nice, cher,” he confessed, allowing his hands to rest tentatively on Angel’s back and forcibly withholding his full opinion on the subject—that he enjoyed the idea of Angel getting dolled up to impress him, that he loved knowing his support had bought the spider a few hours’ indulgence, that he was terribly tempted to blow off the dinner he was supposed to be serving and spend the time alone with Angel instead.

“Look all ya want, honey.” As he leaned in for a kiss, the tension in Alastor’s body only heightened, but he forced himself not to retreat (or maybe he was so deer-in-headlights frozen that he couldn’t have fled if he’d wanted to). As much as he wanted what Angel was offering, he was equally afraid of embarrassing himself with his inexperience.

“Alastor, do you need—oh!” Just as he’d gathered his courage and tilted his head upward to meet Angel’s lips, Niffty’s voice rang through the kitchen. He reflexively stepped back at the sound, breaking the spider’s hold on him and leaving about two feet’s distance between them.

“What was that, dear?” he asked, unsure whether the smile he flashed her was intended to intimidate or reassure. It made little difference, as she was pointedly avoiding looking at him, her cheeks flushed.

“Uh, everything’s ready upstairs. I came to see if you need any help taking stuff up.”

“No. Thank you. Go on ahead and we’ll be up shortly.” She wasn’t eager to argue and zipped out of the room as quickly as she’d appeared, leaving Alastor to clear his throat awkwardly as he swept his jacket back on.

“Why does it bother you if the others know?” Angel asked, strolling along behind Alastor as he pushed the trolley out of the kitchen and toward the elevator. He didn’t seem offended, just curious, likely because he himself had no issue about being open with his sexual dealings.

“I don’t know that it bothers me, per se. But whatever goes on between you and me is none of their affair.” _Especially Charlie._

“Sure, I guess, but it still seems kinda shitty to hafta act different just because someone else is around.” When Alastor didn’t answer right away, Angel quickly went on, “I mean, at the end of the day, it’s whatever you want. Just knowin’ you, I woulda figured you wouldn’t care what anybody else thought of it.”

When they got to the ballroom, true to Charlie’s word, everyone was gathered already, hovering around the handful of tables scattered throughout the room and sipping cocktails (provided by Husk, who had set up a sort of half bar by the door). Luckily, Alastor’s cooking experience in life had given him plenty of experience with serving large groups, so this was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting; I’m sure you’re all starved by now!”

“Nope, you’re just in time.” Charlie sidled up to him as he was setting out the dishes along the banquet tables lining the far wall. “I can’t blame you if you got a little _distracted_.” She nodded heavily toward Angel, who had been crowded by a few of their female patrons all ooh-ing and aah-ing over his outfit.

“What, this old thing?” he purred, posing deliberately and beaming from the attention. His smile was one of the first things the Radio Demon had come to admire about him, and knowing he himself had caused it was even more satisfying. Angel _was_ beautiful; there was no denying that. So why, Alastor wondered, should he even bother trying?

“Yes, maybe I was,” he agreed with Charlie’s statement as he finished up setting out the spread. He ignored her wide eyes and delighted grin as he swept the trolley to one side and gestured to the table with a flourish. “Well, here we are! There should be plenty for everyone, so don’t be shy.”

Dinner didn’t go exactly the way he’d expected. He and Angel shared a table with Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Husk, and although the conversation was the sort typical of the group, he couldn’t help feeling Angel was paying him more attention than usual. Of course, ever since the hotel’s opening, the two had developed a certain chemistry, a sort of quick-fire volley of snarky comments and clever comebacks, but it felt softer on this particular evening. Different. And Alastor found he didn’t mind it.

He still hesitated and drew away when Angel got overtly affectionate—stroking lightly along his hand, leaning close to speak into his ear, playfully toying with his hair—but it was more for his own comfort than out of concern about what anyone else might think. Angel was right in saying that their opinions shouldn’t matter, and if it meant Alastor didn’t have to deliberately maintain his distance, he didn’t mind dealing with their curious glances and whispers.

When everyone had eaten their fill, the other patrons dispersed gradually until only the hotel’s staff was left in the ballroom, chatting long past dark. Husk was the first one to retire, followed soon by Vaggie gently leading a somewhat tipsy Charlie toward the doors as well.

“Wait, wait,” Charlie insisted, “shouldn’t we help clean up?”

“Nope!” Niffty answered cheerfully, waving her onward. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry!” In fact, she was already up and starting to gather plates, apparently no less energetic after dinner and drinks—or at least not enough to keep her from happily working.

“I suppose we’ll leave you to it, then,” Alastor agreed, getting to his feet as well. Angel followed along without prompting.

“Y’know,” he started as they took the stairs to the third floor, where Alastor’s room was located, “you’re a pretty good cook, Al. But I think that meal was missin’ somethin’.”

“Oh? What’s that?” The notion was actually a bit insulting.

“Don’t get me wrong; you make a helluva dinner. But”—he caught Alastor’s hand as they reached the door labeled _313_ —“now I’m in the mood for somethin’ sweet. So what’s for dessert?”

In literal terms, Alastor had never cared much for overly sweet things. Somehow, he got the feeling Angel wasn’t talking about beignets. He froze up for a moment, having failed to consider this aspect of the evening. Of course, it was only logical that Angel’s newly affectionate attitude toward him would include an offer like this, based on his usual interactions with clients.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” he answered. “I’m typically not much for sweets.”

Angel hesitated, tilting his head to one side, then his expression changed. Pouting slightly, he ran a hand through his hair to loosen his curls a little more. “But you can make an exception for me, right? I’ll get so cold up in my room all by myself, Daddy,” he whined, batting his eyes, looking strangely smaller and more fragile than usual. Raising Alastor’s hand up to his cheek and nuzzling against it, he suggested, “Lemme sleep here with you instead.”

Alastor didn’t respond right away. Although he wanted to believe that Angel had a genuine desire to be near him, something about this proposition felt artificial, almost like a game, like he was putting on an act for Alastor’s benefit. And if that was the case, he had no interest in it. He wanted Angel’s genuine self, the confident, assertive, clever individual he’d come to know and enjoy, not whatever persona he put on to please his clients.

“If you _want_ to be here, cher, then by all means, stay. If you’re offering purely for my benefit, however, you can go back to your own room,” he said plainly, and Angel frowned.

“I dunno what that means,” he sighed, crossing both pairs of arms. Even in his irritation, he seemed more like himself, which was an improvement. “D’you not get how this works? You’re takin’ care of me, so I’ll take care of you. I don’t like to welch on a deal, but you gotta tell me what ya want if I’m gonna do it.” The prospect of being ‘taken care of’ by Angel, even if not in the way he had in mind, was immensely appealing. But only if there was a good reason behind it.

“I just did. I’m paying for your time so that you can choose what to do with it. If you’d like to stay, that’s fine. In fact, I think I would like you to,” he confessed, his gaze lingering somewhere around Angel’s right shoulder so their eyes wouldn’t meet. “But if you see this as a professional obligation, if you’re _only_ doing it because I’m paying you, let me say that you have no need to. I don’t want you to make it a chore to be around me.”

The sound Angel let out was sort of a laugh, sort of a scoff, sort of dismissive and uncomfortable at the same time. “C’mon, Al, we both know what this is; ya don’t hafta feel guilty about it. You paid already, so whatever ya want from me is yours fair and square. This is what I do. It ain’t a big deal.”

 _Yes, that’s what I was afraid of._ Refusing to let his smile slip or otherwise betray how much the statement bothered him, Alastor instead answered, “Good night, Angel.”

The spider stood by in silence while Alastor turned to unlock the room and step inside, but when he tried to shut the door, Angel caught it with two hands to stop him. With a note of something almost like guilt in his voice, he conceded very quietly, “I wanna stay.”

Although it was difficult to believe given the sadness on his face, Alastor found himself a bit shaken by seeing Angel so uncomfortable. Continuing to argue just wasn’t worth upsetting him more. So he took a step back out of the doorway and motioned for Angel to come inside, gesturing absently at the lamp in the corner so it flickered to life and bathed the room in dim red light.

Angel shivered as he crossed the threshold, lending some credence to his excuse of being cold, and his gait was noticeably less self-assured than usual as he made his way across the room to Alastor’s bed. Another moment’s hesitation, and he gestured to the bed. “Can I…?”

“Of course.” Alastor concentrated on shrugging out of his coat and removing his shoes and tie as Angel sat on the bed and toed his own shoes off, then crawled onto the mattress on all fours, coming over to meet Alastor where he stood at the other side.

Sitting up on his knees, sliding the edge of his dress up slightly, he asked, “You wanna help me outta this?”

Oh. Somehow, Alastor had failed to realize that in allowing Angel to stay the night, he was agreeing to something more than just enjoying his company. But at this point, it seemed too late to change his mind.

It took a moment for him to compose himself enough to form a response. “If you like.” His hands came to rest on Angel’s hips, only shaking slightly, and slid slowly downward to the skirt’s hemline, where he froze up again. Angel must have noticed his hesitation, as he tried to smooth the process by leaning in for a kiss. It was quick and soft, as if inviting Alastor to take more if he wanted. And he did.

Since this was something he felt much more comfortable exploring, he focused all his attention on it, capturing Angel’s lips with his own more firmly this time. It felt surprisingly natural to slip his tongue into the spider’s mouth, and the breathless moan Angel let out only encouraged him further. He did have a taste, Alastor found, but it wasn’t actually sweet. Enjoyable nevertheless. Every aspect of this experience was so foreign and fascinating, from the softness of Angel’s chest pressed against his to the heat of his mouth to his hands grasping at Alastor’s shoulders. He tried to pull away at least two separate times before Alastor realized that he should let go. As Angel was catching his breath, the Radio Demon realized he’d been so absorbed in the kiss that he hadn’t noticed deft hands unbuttoning his shirt, and he hastened to close it up again.

“Are you gonna…get in bed with me or what?” Angel managed, collapsing to sit and still panting softly, open-mouthed. The position he was in, long legs folded against the bed, forced his skirt even higher up his thighs. Alastor was utterly beside himself, torn in a way he’d never been before.

He had no idea what he wanted out of this moment. No, that was wrong; the problem was that he had entirely too many ideas. Part of him wanted to pin Angel to the bed and keep his mouth thoroughly occupied for the next hour. Part of him wanted to tear that dress off him and explore every inch of bare skin with his eyes, his hands, his lips. Part of him wanted to pretend he had no anxiety about this matter and spend the rest of the night satisfying his many curiosities about how it might feel to share that kind of intimacy with Angel.

Yet another very loud part was insisting that all the other parts were insane, that allowing _anyone_ that close was asking for trouble, and that the best recourse was simply to throw the spider out, lock the door, and pretend none of this had ever happened. His mind was giving so many imperatives all at once that it was impossible to choose which to act on.

“Al?” When Angel’s hand found his arm, he was so high-strung that he immediately jerked away from the touch, reeling back a step or two and struggling to get a hold of himself before he said or did anything he’d regret. Worst of all, Angel looked confused, guilty, even _worried_ about him. “You okay?”

“Yes. No. I—” He let out an entirely mirthless laugh, simply because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. “I’m sorry. You…maybe you should…go.” It was stupid of him to have expected that he could change his stripes, so to speak, that easily. He knew what he was. He knew it didn’t lend itself well to affection of any sort. No one should be forced to put up with that, especially not one of the few people Alastor genuinely cared for.

“Go? But I thought… I mean, did I do somethin’ wrong?” Angel asked, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed but mercifully not making any move to touch him. “I dunno what happened.”

“Nothing. It’s not you.” There he was, making an absolute fool of himself, just as he’d feared. But at the same time, it wasn’t right to make Angel feel as if he were in the wrong. It took all Alastor’s effort to force himself to keep smiling as he continued, “I’m sorry, cher. I’ve never…done this before.”

“What, paid for sex?” Angel laughed, and although it didn’t seem ridiculing, it didn’t help, either. When Alastor didn’t respond, he quickly sobered and realized: “Oh, y’mean you’ve never…at all? Uh, shit, I just figured—hey, it’s fine, though! I been with virgins before; it ain’t a big deal. We can take it slow if ya want.” Somehow, although they were probably meant to be reassuring, the words did nothing to ease Alastor’s anxiety.

“That’s probably for the best.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to try. Eventually. He was always interested in a new experience, and he did want to be close to Angel. But this evening had already made it quite clear that he had some mental blocks to work around before anything like that would be possible. “I don’t mean to make this difficult for you. I’m sure you were expecting—”

“Alastor.” Angel leaned his head down to catch the Radio Demon’s gaze (which was directed toward the floor), and although his smile was much softer than the wicked grin he usually wore, it still felt genuine. “It’s fine. You’re payin’ for my time and my company, but it’s up to you what you wanna do with it. If ya wanna fuck me, I’m up for it. If ya wanna kiss me again and then see where it goes, I’m fine with that too. If ya just want me to sleep here, I can.” After a moment’s hesitation and with somewhat dampened enthusiasm, he added, “Hell, if ya want me to leave ya alone and go to my own room—”

“I don’t,” Alastor answered quickly, “want that.”

Angel seemed pleased with the concession. “Point is, it’s up to you. Whatever you pick is fine by me. So don’t worry too much about what I ‘expect.’ I’d rather be here with you than off at some shithole motel with a john I can’t trust.”

 _Meaning he trusts me?_ That notion made Alastor feel a million times better about the night, all awkwardness and uncertainty included. At the same time, Angel’s assurance that he was in control of their interaction was an immense comfort in itself. Maybe these feelings—comfort, control, confidence—were what he was actually paying for.

Feeling at least somewhat steadier now, he seated himself on the bed next to Angel and leaned in to kiss his cheek, causing his slight smile to widen into something more playful. _‘Something sweet’ indeed._ “I do want you to stay the night, ma sucrette. And I wouldn’t say no to more of those kisses.”

“Sucrette? What’s that?”

Tilting Angel’s chin upward and running a thumb lightly across his lips, Alastor replied, “Why, it’s you, sweetness.”

It may have been a trick of the light, but it certainly looked like Angel was blushing as they settled into bed. _Charming._ He moved close under the covers to put himself in Alastor’s arms, and after a moment of figuring out how their bodies fit together in an embrace, there was another kiss. And another. Knowing he wasn’t expected to go any further made it easier for Alastor to relax and enjoy their nearness for what it was. And there was no shortage of things to enjoy about it. He looked forward to discovering and further exploring each one in the days to come.


	4. Secondhand Sweetness

It was shocking—and a bit concerning—how quickly Alastor got used to his new circumstances. Even if he himself had no skill for interpersonal relationships, Angel handled them deftly enough that it was easy to follow his lead. Every day, he got the majority of Angel’s attention, all the enjoyable sarcasm and sass he typically displayed around others, as well as the occasional stroke to his arm or kiss to his cheek. Then every night, they went to Alastor’s bed together and discussed hotel business or Angel’s progress with Charlie or their plans for the following day. Then there was plenty of kissing and touching and cuddling until Alastor reached the limits of his daring or they simply relaxed enough to go to sleep. It was heavenly.

Contrary to Alastor’s expectations, Angel didn’t demand a particular sum of money each day for the privilege of his company. Rather, he simply expected that when he asked, Alastor would provide whatever it was he wanted: a night out, a new addition to his wardrobe, an accessory or decoration for his room—that is, Alastor’s room, where he had come to spend much of his personal time. Alastor had given the condition that his money was not to be used for illicit drugs or alcohol (especially since they had the latter in abundance at the hotel), but anything else Angel wanted was his to ask for, and the Radio Demon was happy to provide it.

Unsurprisingly, this shift in their dynamic only made Alastor’s feelings for Angel grow stronger all the time. This was his first experience with dating of any sort, but he could immediately see why it was such a popular pastime. Being subject to Angel’s sweetness all hours of the day, he only found more and more things to enjoy about the spider’s company. He was well aware that whatever was going on between them wasn’t the same as a ‘real’ relationship, but he still felt that Angel wouldn’t bother being so affectionate unprompted if he only saw this as a job.

About three weeks in, after another one-on-one afternoon session with Charlie, he returned to Alastor’s room with a dramatic sigh. “God, it was only an hour, but I’m fuckin’ _exhausted_.” He seated himself on the bed, then flopped onto his back while Alastor watched in amusement from his desk, where he had been reading while waiting for his beau to return. “I swear Charlie plans these talks thinkin’ ‘what’s the absolute last thing he’s gonna wanna talk about?’”

“That bad, was it?” Alastor chuckled. “Anything you’d like to share with me?”

“No way. It was bad enough gettin’ into it with her.” He squirmed on the bed and rolled over onto his stomach, tilting his head to one side to thoughtfully toy with his curls. Since the morning after their first night together, when Alastor had mentioned that the style suited him, Angel had been taking to his own room each morning to ready himself for the day, and every time, he came down with his hair freshly curled. Alastor couldn’t decide which he liked more: the look itself or the fact that Angel was putting in extra effort to please him. “What’re _you_ doin’? Readin’ some depressing shit, I bet.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to be free, cher.” Setting aside his copy of _Les Misérables_ (an early printing, which he’d read several times already and considered one of his prized possessions), he asked, “Are you too distraught to go out with me? I have some ideas as to how we might spend our evening.”

“Hmm, so do I,” Angel teased with a wink. Although his suggestive comments hadn’t decreased in the slightest, he was still very patient and understanding when they were actually in bed, for which Alastor was grateful. But it seemed the spider had overlooked the first part of his statement and now realized what he was saying. “Wait, you’re takin’ me out? And I didn’t even hafta ask?”

“Well, I haven’t decided anything yet. You’re welcome to convince me if you like.”

With a wicked grin, Angel crawled out of bed and sauntered over to the desk to kneel in Alastor’s chair, straddling his lap. “Careful whatcha wish for,” he purred, sliding his fingers up the back of Alastor’s neck and into his hair. “Whatever ya have planned for me, I want it, honey. Take me out and show me off as much as ya want. I’ll wear that red thing I bought last week that you liked so much. And maybe if you’re real nice to me, I’ll take it off for ya when we get home.”

Sometimes, Alastor wasn’t quite sure which of them was intended to have more power in this arrangement. But he certainly knew who _did_. “That’s very tempting, ma sucrette,” he admitted, letting his fingertips glance along Angel’s leg. “Ask nicely and you’ve got a deal.”

“Plea~se?” Angel agreed, and the Radio Demon suppressed a shiver. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he enjoyed the sound of Angel’s voice until he’d heard it as a desperate moan, but at this point, he couldn’t get enough.

Grasping the spider’s chin gently, leading him closer so their lips were just a breath apart, he prompted, “Again.”

Angel let out a soft whine from the tease of being so close but still not close enough. “ _Please_ , Daddy.” Satisfied, Alastor caught his lips for a deep and thorough kiss, only releasing him when his moans turned into something breathless and weak.

“Go ahead and get dressed, then, cher,” he said, planting another quick kiss on Angel’s cheek. “And take your time. I want you looking your best.”

“Don’t I always?” Angel asked, showing his tongue as he swept out of the room, and Alastor finally felt safe to let out the dreamy sigh he’d been holding back. It felt important that he maintain a certain distance while they were together, so as to not scare Angel off with his sentimental attachment (or perhaps to not give away how much control Angel could have if he really tried), so he did his best to keep most of his genuine adoration to himself.

He had just about managed to take his mind off his beau and draw his attention back to his book when there was a knock at his door. He couldn’t imagine why Angel would be knocking after having more or less had the run of the place over the past three weeks, but none of the others ever came to Alastor’s room, so who else could it be?

“You already know I want you here, cher,” he called as he got up to answer the door. “You don’t have to—” He paused as he pulled the door open and realized that the very tall and slender demon waiting outside was not Angel Dust (in fact, he noticed, their color schemes were almost directly inverted). But he recognized her nevertheless.

“Expecting someone else, were you?” Whether the hissing in her speech came from her elongated canines or her forked tongue was difficult to say, but it had never made her any less charismatic. She was tall enough that Alastor had to look up in order to meet her eyes, dressed in a notably outdated but undeniably high-quality ensemble of green and gold.

“I was certainly _not_ expecting to see you here. Charity work isn’t typically your interest.”

“There’s no such thing as charity in Hell, dear,” Venture said, waving a ring-beaded hand dismissively. “Everyone’s out for something—though I’ll admit I haven’t figured out Her Highness’s angle yet.”

“If you’re hoping to find some selfish ulterior motive in Charlie’s goals, you’ll be disappointed. I’m afraid, despite her parentage, she doesn’t have a devious bone in her body.”

“We’ll just see about that; I’m not convinced.” Shifting her weight, arms crossed, she peered past him into the room. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Of course not. Even if you were, it wouldn’t be hospitable to let you wander about without a guide,” Alastor said, stepping out of the room and pulling the door closed behind him. “Besides, I’m curious as to the reason for your visit.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fascinated with this entire setup,” she admitted, turning away from his door to survey the hall, elegantly tossing her coat’s long train behind her so she wouldn’t step on it. “Say what you want, but it’s a business at the end of the day. I’m terribly interested in exactly how it functions. And you’re partially in charge of running it, aren’t you?”

“Co-manager, yes.” Leading her down the hallway, hands folded behind his back, he stole a glance in her direction. “But I know better than to share our industry secrets with someone like you, my friend. I’m sure it wouldn’t take you long to copy and perfect our model, and then we’d be out of business.” He delivered this accusation with a good-natured smile, as it was more or less an objective fact. They both knew that ‘business’ was her middle name, and she was nothing short of dangerous as a professional rival.

“Don’t be so sure, dear,” she answered with a similarly friendly smile. “I don’t know if there’s anything to be done that could make a concept like this profitable.”

“Then why bother investigating?” Alastor insisted. “If this were simple curiosity, you could have checked into us any number of ways without showing up yourself. So what are you actually doing here?” Though he did consider Venture a friend—insomuch as he considered anyone a friend—he still knew better than to fully trust any demon, and the presence of another Overlord in their humble hotel was suspicious at best.

“What am I ever doing anywhere, Alastor?” she asked in return, unperturbed as she observed every aspect of the hallway and its decor. “It’s business, as per usual. Though I’ll admit I was hoping to check in on you at a personal level as well. It’s been years since you and I last worked together, and I was beginning to worry about you.” Every word out of her mouth was facetious and playful, making it difficult to tell how much of it she truly meant.

“Never fear, I’m right as rain.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re better than that.” She produced a mobile phone from somewhere up one of her long, billowing sleeves and tapped away at it for a moment. Turning an all too knowing and smug expression on him, she cooed, “I’m told you have one more notable reason to smile lately. How _is_ Angel doing, by the way?”

He was so caught off-guard by this question that he halted in his tracks, unsure of how to respond. While they hadn’t made much effort to keep their relationship a secret, they also hadn’t exactly broadcasted it to the general population of Hell; there was certainly no reason for so distant an Overlord as Venture to be aware of what was going on between them.

“Angel Dust? He’s fine, I’m sure. Up in his room, last I knew. Why do you ask?”

“Somehow, I had the feeling you’d been keeping a closer eye on him as of late,” Venture said innocently, gliding past him and into the still-defunct ballroom at the end of the hall, forcing him to follow. “That’s what I was led to believe when I spoke to him last, at least. You always have been possessive of the few you get attached to, I suppose.”

“You’re one to talk.” He answered automatically before the full implications of her words hit him. “Wait, do you mean to say that he told you about the recent…changes in his professional life?” Alastor wasn’t even aware the two were acquainted.

“About your offer to take care of him so he no longer has to work, you mean? Oh yes,” she agreed with great relish, reptilian yellow eyes wandering over the room’s faded wallpaper and tattered drapes. “It would’ve been discourteous not to, considering I was the one arranging his _rendezvous_ , shall we say, when you decided to become his one and only patron.”

“You…?” Somehow, now that he had been informed that Venture was the ‘manager’ Angel had mentioned, it all made sense. Who could free him of Valentino’s control but another Overlord? Who better to help him make money than Hell’s very own demoniac personification of commerce? Struggling not to bristle but unable to keep the static from building up around him, Alastor ground out, “ _You_ were the one sending him out to sleep with strange men? Taking him out of the safety of the hotel and compromising his rehabilitation? Sending him back beaten and bloody more than once?”

Venture raised an eyebrow, amused by his irritation. “Keep in mind, dear, that what I did, I did at his behest. And you should know that whatever violence he endured under my supervision was entirely consensual; I wouldn’t have allowed it otherwise. I take better care of my clients than that.”

“Because they make you money,” Alastor growled, forcing away any thoughts of Angel being willingly abused by some other demon for fear that he might be sick.

“If you mean that as an insult, you’re off the mark,” she chuckled. “Besides, I do the same for them, and Angel is no exception. Of course, I had no way of knowing about your…personal interest in him.”

“If you had, would it have stopped you working with him?”

“Mm, not likely. But you clearly don’t understand the full situation,” she said dismissively, as if it were objective fact. “My accepting the position was a favor to him.” Although things between them had always been more or less amiable, this revelation—and her attitude regarding it—had Alastor’s hackles up, and it was in his nature to push back when challenged.

“Of course it was. You’re well known for your inclination to do favors for others while expecting nothing in return,” he agreed sarcastically. “How could I possibly expect that so upstanding and principled an Overlord as yourself would have anything other than the purest intentions?”

Noticing the room beginning to grow darker, the shadows shifting along the wall, she let out a sigh as if he were being childish. “There’s no need for all that. What do you think, that I manipulated him into working with me? That I don’t have other ways of earning money? Do you honestly think I _needed_ Angel’s income?

“No, but since when has necessity been the motivation for Greed?” Alastor countered. “I could believe quite easily that you stole or swindled his contract out from under Valentino purely to prove that you could. The income was just an additional perk. Am I wrong?”

Rather than getting defensive and snapping back at him as he’d hoped she would, Venture simply watched him with unveiled fascination. “None of those things would bother you at any other time. You must be more invested in Angel than I realized.”

 _Damn it._ He’d really thought that ‘stealing and swindling’ accusation would get to her. Unfortunately, she had instead picked up on the much more damning aspect of his response, one it would be all too easy for her to use against him. “So you admit this is all just a power play for you.”

“I’m not admitting anything of the sort. Now, I won’t pretend I haven’t profited from my professional relationship with Angel, but if my concern for him were _only_ professional, I wouldn’t be here,” she explained evenly. “You really should try not to be so suspicious of others with no evidence. A lesser demon might see all that hostility and feel the need to return it.”

“Hey.” Angel’s voice came from the still-open doorway as he stepped into the ballroom to meet them. As promised, he was wearing the deep red romper he’d bought on one of his recent outings, which accentuated his slim waist, displayed most of his long legs, and gave only the barest tease of a glimpse at his chest. At any other moment, Alastor would’ve been swooning internally—but he very quickly realized that his beau’s eyes were on Venture and not him, and another scratch of static grated through the air.

“Hey yourself,” she said pleasantly, ignoring Alastor’s discontent altogether. “You look nice. Plans for the evening?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business at this point,” the Radio Demon grumbled.

“I wasn’t asking you, dear,” she pointed out, still smiling.

“Uh, do you guys have a problem or somethin’?” Angel asked. “Venn, what’re you even doin’ here? I thought I still had ‘til the end of this week.”

_For what?_

“Plans changed, I’m afraid. I spoke to—” She paused and looked at Alastor pointedly, then asked, “Is there somewhere we could talk in private, habiibii? Your room, maybe?”

“Oh no, by all means, use this one,” Alastor said, starting toward the door. “I can take a hint.”

“It should just be a minute,” Angel said apologetically, stroking his arm as he walked past, but he didn’t stop.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting once you’ve finished your conversation.” He stepped back out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind him, silently fuming over being willfully excluded from the conversation. Whatever they were discussing, why should he not be privy to it? He was a part of Angel’s professional dealings these days, wasn’t he? He paced up and down the hall restlessly and, after a few seconds of debating with himself, tried listening in on the discussion—only to find that Venture had soundproofed the room. _So she just assumed I would try to eavesdrop? How rude._ It occurred to him that she might have kicked him out purely as payback for his less than courteous attitude toward her earlier. Now who was being childish?

Well, she’d said she wanted to know more about the hotel. Far be it from Alastor to deny her the opportunity. In fact, there was only one way for her to be fully informed on the matter, and it would be his pleasure to facilitate it.

When she and Angel finally finished their discussion and left the ballroom, Alastor was waiting, as promised, but he wasn’t alone. As Angel came back to his side, Venture stole a wary glance in Alastor’s direction and inclined her head. “Princess.”

“Oh, just ‘Charlie’ is fine,” the hotel’s proprietor answered, friendly as ever, taking Venture’s hand to shake it firmly without giving her much choice in the matter (one of several aggressively friendly habits she had picked up from Alastor). “And you must be Venture. Welcome to the Hazbin! Alastor tells me you might be interested in investing in the hotel.”

Venture’s eyebrows raised, and she shot a glare at Alastor, whose smug grin didn’t falter for a moment. Of course, she had the option of setting Charlie straight, of explaining that she had no such interest and didn’t see the hotel as a worthwhile endeavor. Most demons—certainly most Overlords—would have done just that and spared no venom in their rejection.

But she wouldn’t. And Alastor knew it.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” she answered instead, quickly masking over whatever irritation she felt toward Alastor with an amiable smile of her own. “Do you have a sales pitch for me? I’ll warn you right now that I’m a difficult investor to please.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” Charlie giggled, and a somewhat more genuine smile tugged at the corners of Venture’s mouth, her expression softening. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? I’ll give you a tour and tell you about the progress we’ve been making, and you can decide from there whether you want to get involved. Sound good?”

“Well…I suppose I have some time,” Venture conceded, and Alastor knew his work was done.

“We should probably be going then,” he said, offering Angel his arm, which the spider gladly accepted.

“Have fun,” Charlie called after them as they headed for the stairs. “Make good choices!”

“Likewise,” Alastor answered, looking pointedly at Venture before turning his full attention back to where it should be: on Angel. Once they were in the stairwell, out of earshot of the others, he asked, “So? How was your chat?”

“Fine,” Angel answered with a shrug. Although it seemed he was trying to be casual in brushing it off, his tone was hardly convincing.

“Anything I should be concerned about?” Alastor insisted. “Anything _you’re_ concerned about? I’ll admit I’m curious as to what you were discussing. Do you still owe her something?”

“Eh, it ain’t a big deal. Just some loose ends to tie up now that I’m not workin’ the same as before.”

He didn’t much care for the sound of that. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he repeated, “Loose ends? There must be a way I can help with that. If you have some sort of debt to her, I’ll pay it for you, cher.”

“No, no, it’s not her.” Angel was still trying to tug him toward the door, though with a little less feeling. “It’s just. Val’s the one who—”

“Valentino?” Alastor asked sharply. Seeing Angel flinch at his harsh tone, he made a conscious effort at keeping his defensiveness subdued. “What does he have to do with anything? I thought you two weren’t working together anymore.” Had Angel been keeping things from him? Were those days he spent ‘shopping’ actually a cover for his continuing to work? Alastor didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t even want to think of it.

“We’re not,” the spider assured him hastily. “Don’t get mad, honey; we’re supposed to be havin’ a night out together. Doesn’t that sound like a helluva better time than standin’ around talkin’ about business bullshit? Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna hurt my feelings, actin’ like ya don’t care about spendin’ time with me.”

He was doing it again, using his playful, pouty porn star approach to deflect from something serious he didn’t want to discuss. He had been getting better about it, about not slipping into this artificial playacting whenever he thought his sincere response wasn’t what Alastor wanted to hear—but it seemed he hadn’t moved past it altogether yet.

As the Radio Demon drew his arm out of his beau’s grip, Angel let out a defeated sigh and quickly dropped the act, realizing it wasn’t doing him any good. “Look, it’s complicated,” he muttered. “I’ll explain if ya want, but it’s gonna take a while, so can we do it once we get back? Just gimme a few hours to not think about it, then later, I’ll tell ya whatever you wanna know. Okay?”

Despite his desire to understand exactly what was going on and how he could help Angel through it, Alastor could understand his wanting to take his mind off it for a while, especially if it was a topic that made him uncomfortable. So he conceded, “All right, ma sucrette. You _are_ all dressed up, after all. It wouldn’t be fair to make you sit around at home all night.”

Angel’s face immediately lit up with a relieved smile. “Exactly. Besides, you said ya had plans. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ what _your_ idea of a good time is,” he said, lacing his fingers through Alastor’s to lead him toward the door. Adept as he was at holding Alastor’s attention, as much as he savored even that simple touch, the Radio Demon had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy this night out; until he knew what was troubling Angel and how to resolve it, he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else.


	5. Kid in a Candy Store

Dinner dates weren’t Alastor’s favorite sort of outing, but he’d noted that Angel tended to enjoy them—whether on merit or on principle, he couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t much matter. Anything that pleased Angel pleased Alastor. While it couldn’t be said that Hell had many upscale dining establishments, as most demons didn’t bother with anything that came close to ‘refinement,’ Pentagram City did have a few bright spots. And there was at least one they hadn’t been to yet.

The Overlord who owned the establishment probably thought he was being very clever in naming the place eDen. Maybe Lucifer found it amusing. And clearly some part of the population of Hell felt similarly, as it was the most exclusive fine dining destination in the city. Even Alastor had been forced to wait a week for an open table, threats and bribes notwithstanding. But all the work he’d done to secure a reservation was proven to be completely worthwhile when they arrived and Angel’s face lit up.

The dining area was on the rooftop of one of the city’s tallest buildings, and Angel was practically beside himself with excitement as they took the elevator up, clinging to Alastor’s arm with two hands and combing through his hair with another. “Now I _know_ you’re tryin’ to get me in bed,” the spider teased. “Ya don’t take a guy to a swanky place like this and just call it a casual date.”

“And why not? Haven’t you said you deserve to be spoiled, ma sucrette? I wholeheartedly agree.” Every once in a while, Alastor managed to counter Angel’s flirtation with an answer smooth enough to mollify him.

This was not one of those times.

“Good to know we’re on the same page, _Daddy_ ,” Angel snickered, twirling a lock of Alastor’s hair around his fingers and leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his neck. By the time the elevator doors slid open, the Radio Demon was struggling not to short-circuit, but Angel had apparently moved on from his casual seduction play. He dragged Alastor out of the elevator to a host stand where a faceless demon, a creature of pure blackness almost comically dressed in a suit, stood waiting.

It took one look at Alastor and seemed to have all the information it needed to lead them to their table. The area was arranged in such a way that there was a fair distance from one table to the next, and they were all lined up on the outer perimeter of the roof to overlook the city. The demons populating the tables around them looked to be the more powerful sort—naturally, since it took a certain amount of influence to get into this place at all. Alastor wondered vaguely whether any of the couples surrounding were in a similar situation to theirs.

“Shiiiit,” Angel sighed, leaning against the railing that lined the rooftop to look out at the city. They’d arrived just in time to catch the last of the sunset, and somehow the stark orange light felt softer when reflected on Angel’s shades of pink. Realizing Alastor had come to his side, Angel glanced down at him with a reluctant smile. “All right already, I’m impressed. Ya don’t hafta try so hard, ya know.” Difficult to tell whether that was teasing or not.

“I want to be sure I’m holding up my end of the bargain. Just like you, I don’t like to welch on a deal,” Alastor answered with a shrug, taking a step back toward their table and pulling out Angel’s chair for him. The chairs were tall enough that he could sit comfortably without being forced to curl his long legs up (as they’d found was an issue some other places), but when Alastor took the seat in front of him, he was biting his lower lip in quiet contemplation. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” Resting one arm against the table, he used another hand to toy with his curls. “I mean, look at me. Look at this place. What could be wrong?”

“Gentlemen.” Fortunately, the server who appeared to wait on them had eyes they could meet. Perhaps a few too many, but at least it was something to focus on. This one was dressed in a suit as well, and she smiled pleasantly as she delivered their menus. “I’ll come check on you in a bit to see if you’re ready to order. In the meantime, is there anything I can get started for you? Cocktails? Apps?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno.” Suddenly, shockingly, Angel seemed a bit unsure of himself, absently flipping through the drink menu on the table. “What d’you think, hon?” He glanced up at Alastor, clearly looking for some sort of direction, so the Radio Demon took it upon himself to make an executive decision.

“Seltzer water is fine for me, dear,” he told the server, taking the drink menu from Angel and choosing the booziest cocktail he could find—not because he wanted to get Angel drunk but because he knew that the spider had quite a high tolerance for that sort of thing. “And my beau will have one of these Hellcat Cosmos. Well, I’m sure he’ll have more than that, but let’s start with one for now.”

“Will do!” their server agreed. With a wink (or several, depending on how one looked at it) in Angel’s direction, she added, “By the way: huge fan.” Then she swept off to fulfill their drink orders, and Alastor finally noticed the look Angel Dust was giving him. It was a sort of dreamy, admiring look, the sort that affected him much more than any sexy, come-hither gaze ever would.

“I like you takin’ charge like that,” Angel confessed. “And ‘beau’? That’s pretty cute too.”

“It’s what you are.” Not only in terms of being the man Alastor was involved with but in the original French sense meaning ‘beautiful’ or ‘handsome.’ Angel was all of the above. “But you surprised me, freezing up the way you did. Are you not comfortable here?”

“No, it ain’t that. It’s just been a while, I guess. I mean a _while_. Used to go to places like this all the time back when I was, y’know, topside,” Angel explained, resting his chin in his hand. “But it’s different down here. For lots of reasons, obviously. Always had other shit to spend my own money on, and none of my other johns ever—” He stopped himself, frowning slightly. “I mean, I don’t wanna say ‘my other johns’ like you’re one of them. I’m just tryna say I haven’t done this in a while, so I guess it’s takin’ me a minute to get used to it. It’s easy to feel like I don’t really belong here.” He gestured to the other patrons, those who made a point of presenting themselves a certain way, those who wanted everyone around them to be aware of the power and influence they had.

Catching Angel’s hand in his own, Alastor said firmly, “You belong here as much as anyone, cher. Ignore them. You’re here because I wanted to treat you and to enjoy being with you. Do you _want_ to be here?”

“Course I do!” the spider answered without hesitation. “I mean, probably not on my own, but…with you, sure.”

That was encouragement if ever he’d heard it. “Then enjoy your time here with me,” he said, smiling wider still. “You look lovely, the view is fantastic, and I’m sure our meal will be to die for.”

Angel grinned. “It better be, right? Otherwise what the hell’re we here for?”

Their server delivered their drinks, and as Angel sipped his, he talked a bit more about his life experiences relevant to this setting, his family’s dealings in organized crime and resultant wealth, his general disinterest in The Family Business, which had led him to becoming a sex worker in the first place. As much as Alastor’s blood boiled to hear about the other men Angel had slept with and how they’d treated him, he wanted to know everything his beau wanted to share—and besides, he reminded himself that things were different now.

Despite having reservations about eating Italian food that wasn’t ‘authentic,’ Angel wound up opting for some sort of ravioli as his entrée, and he actually seemed quite pleased with it. “Mm! Al, you gotta try this,” he insisted, covering his mouth with one hand while still finishing his first bite.

“I’m fine, cher,” the Radio Demon argued, already content with the veal on his own plate. He’d never been much for pasta anyway.

“Aw, c’mon.” Angel pouted, having already scooped up a bite to offer him. “Just try it. It’s really good, and besides, it’s not like you’re gonna let me feed ya dessert. Well, not ‘til we get back to the hotel, anyway.”

“Ahem. Thank you, ma sucrette, but that’s really not necessary,” Alastor insisted, hoping that the warmth on his cheeks wasn’t translating to a visible blush. He was an adult; he didn’t need to be spoon-fed. Besides, he wanted to believe he still had _some_ willpower to tell Angel ‘no’ occasionally.

His date looked irritated for a second, then shifted to an even more intense pout. Normally, puppy eyes had little to no effect on Alastor, but the sadness on Angel’s face was so effectively feigned that he had a hard time of ignoring it. “But you’re bein’ so good to me tonight, Daddy. Lemme be sweet to you too. Ya can’t take me out and treat me so nice and expect me not to wanna return the favor.” Leaning forward against the table, displaying the curves of his chest a little better with his back arched, he cooed, “Just one little bite and I’ll quit buggin’ ya.”

After a moment more of resistance, the Radio Demon broke and accepted the bite of ravioli Angel was offering. At least it was the sort filled with meat, so he couldn’t say it was terrible. With a satisfied grin, Angel asked, “What’d I say? Good, right?”

“I suppose,” Alastor agreed vaguely, “if you like that sort of thing.” He was far more focused on the way it was delivered than on the food itself.

Angel sighed. “I get it. Not good enough. I’ll hafta pay you back some other way. How ‘bout this: I’ll give ya a massage or somethin’ once we get back to the room.”

“That does sound nice, cher,” he conceded.

He was right to assume Angel would have more than one drink. He ordered not only a second Cosmo but some alcoholic coffee drink to go with their—that is, _his_ —dessert as well. The whole feel of the date was different from the ones they’d had previously, more natural. Angel was certainly being more familiar than usual, addressing Alastor more often as ‘honey’ than as ‘Daddy.’ It almost felt like a real date, like a real relationship, and Alastor dared to let himself hope that things might be changing between them, even if only gradually.

“So, level with me for a minute,” Angel said as he was finishing off his dessert, a slice of dark chocolate red wine cake. Gesturing with his fork around the area, which was slowly emptying of other patrons, he asked, “How much is all this gonna set you back? I figure it’s gotta be hundreds, at least; this place is pretty picky about who they let in. Even Val never—” He stopped himself as he slipped and mentioned his former employer, his smile disappearing altogether for a split-second. “So, uh. What kind of numbers are we talkin’?”

“Why do you ask?” Alastor tilted his head to one side, still nursing a coffee of his own (minus the Irish cream). “You don’t have to concern yourself with that, cher. We’re here because you deserve the best and I can afford to provide it. That’s all that matters.”

Despite his cheeks coloring with a slight blush, Angel insisted, “I guess I’m just askin’ because… I mean, it’s been a while. Almost a month now. I’ve never had anything exclusive go on this long before. I was kinda wonderin’ if you went so big this time because we’re, y’know, done after this.”

“What?” Alastor’s smile slipped noticeably. “You think I brought you here to”—he almost said ‘break up’ but realized that wasn’t entirely appropriate—“break things off with you?”

“I dunno, maybe.” The spider shrugged, now avoiding his eyes, arms crossed. “You gotta understand where I’m comin’ from, though; this ain’t the kinda thing a guy in my line of work just gets handed to him. I’m used to presents and shit comin’ with a price tag, and the nicer they treat ya, the more they expect you to ‘earn it.’” All the sweetness had fled his voice, leaving nothing but bitterness in its wake.

Alastor took a moment to choose his words carefully, as it seemed the conversation had suddenly turned delicate. He probably should have been able to guess everything Angel was explaining now, should’ve known that a sex worker’s clients were only likely to spoil him in exchange for vulgar favors, yet hearing the way Angel talked about it somehow made it more real. Alastor’s mind again strayed to Valentino, who was surely the worst perpetrator of manipulation like that, and he was forced to recall that Angel still had some matters to settle with him. That would have to be addressed. But not now.

“Angel, I told you when we started this that you wouldn’t be expected to earn anything,” he pointed out. The two were often very coy about the nature of their relationship, treating it lightheartedly, but this felt like a moment for candor. “The time we spend together is intended to be an option, not an obligation. No, I don’t have any intention of cutting you off. Not now. Not at all, if I can help it. Whether you choose to keep my company or not.”

Angel nodded slowly, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. I think I knew that already. It’s just hard gettin’ used to this when I spent so long doin’ _that_ , y’know?”

“I understand.” _To a point._ “If I have my way, you’ll have plenty of time to continue getting used to it.” He lay his hand on the table, and Angel was visibly fighting a smile as he took it.

“Careful, Al. You’re startin’ to sound a little stingy.”

Oh, if only he knew.

It was nearing midnight when they finally returned to the hotel. Although it was expected that everyone be asleep at this hour, although the lobby was quiet and darkened as usual, there was a light on in the rarely-used administrative office. From inside, Alastor could hear papers flipping, pens scratching, and the occasionally muttered curse as someone was clearly burning the midnight oil. Dedicated as Charlie was, she typically valued her rest to be sure she could work effectively during business hours. He knew someone else, however, who would have no such concerns.

As he stepped into the office doorway, proceeded by a curious Angel, sure enough, there was Venture hunched over one of the two desks, with files and financial records spread out on every horizontal surface. She immediately noticed their presence and looked up to meet Alastor’s self-satisfied grin with a glare. “Don’t say a word,” she hissed.

Fortunately, Angel beat him to it. “What the hell’re you still doin’ here?” he asked, wandering into the office and looking over the scene as if to divine her purpose there.

“What does it look like?” she sighed, sitting back in her chair and dropping the pen she’d been holding. “I’m helping this mess of a hotel find its financial footing. Have you been supplying the means for all this”—that was directed at Alastor—“or is Lucifer footing the bill? Regardless, Charlie has no recognizable system of organizing any of it.”

“How convenient, then, that she’s ensnared such a capable financier,” Alastor answered with great relish.

“What, so you just work for the hotel now?” Angel asked with a grin of his own.

“I am temporarily assisting with finance management,” Venture told them diplomatically. “And will probably end up giving Her Highness a few lessons on best business practices as well.”

“Careful. I believe she’s spoken for,” Alastor pointed out, and his friend rolled her yellow eyes.

“Please. She’s a child—but a child who could use a professional mentor, and frankly, I don’t trust _you_ to fill that position.”

“Nor should you. I am just here for the laughs, after all.” Taking Angel’s hand to lead him toward the door, he went on, “We should leave Venture to her work, don’t you think, cher? She does hate to be distracted from it.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Angel snorted. Gesturing toward the disaster area of an office as they left, he added, “Good luck! Nice havin’ ya onboard.” She grumbled something caustic in Arabic behind their backs.

Alastor didn’t release his hand as they took the stairs up to the third floor, and he opened the door to room 313 to allow Angel in ahead of him. “Ugh, about damn time. These heels are killin’ me,” the spider sighed as he strolled inside to remove his shoes but left his stockings on, as per usual. As Alastor was shrugging out of his coat to hang it up, Angel watched him thoughtfully and toyed with the neckline of his romper. “Hmm, I did say I’d take this thing off for ya if you were real nice to me. You think you deserve it?”

“I…think you should make yourself comfortable, certainly,” Alastor agreed, unbuttoning his cuffs and failing miserably to pretend he wasn’t watching Angel undress. Still, his beau indulged him. Turning around to slowly drag down the zipper that lined his long spine, he then pulled his top set of arms from their sleeves, followed by the lower ones. He glanced back over his shoulder to be sure Alastor was still paying attention—which he was, his own disrobing completely forgotten. Angel grinned and let the upper part of his garment drop, then worked it slowly down and off his hips, bending forward slightly as he did. It slid to the ground, leaving Angel in nothing but a pair of frilly red undergarments, and Alastor realized he had forgotten to breathe for a moment. By this point, he’d more or less gotten comfortable with the sight of Angel’s body, but that did little to slow his heart rate each time he saw it.

“You just gonna stand there and stare or what?” the spider teased, crawling into bed and stretching his lengthy frame out across the mattress. Alastor hastily finished rolling back his cuffs and slipped his shoes off to join his beau in bed, already crawling closer for a deep kiss. Angel let out a hum of approval and wrapped his arms around Alastor’s shoulders to draw him as close as possible. It took a moment, but Alastor managed to settle his hands gingerly on Angel’s hips; even if he was often unsure of how to approach it, he tried his best to make sure his willingness came across.

Pulling away from him slightly, Angel asked, “Didja want that massage now, or…?”

“Yes, please.” Alastor supposed that was a fair enough trade for all the kisses he typically claimed at this time of night. He turned onto his stomach, crossing his arms to rest his head on them, and Angel crawled over him to straddle his legs.

“Sure ya don’t want me to take this off?” he asked, tugging lightly at Alastor’s shirt.

“No need. I’m sure it won’t keep me from enjoying this.”

“Whatever you say, honey.” Perhaps because he had more hands to work with than most, Angel turned out to be quite skilled in this area. While two hands worked firmly against Alastor’s shoulders, the others slid down his sides, then up his spine, and he found himself melting into the bed, sighing blissfully. This was a sort of physical contact he could certainly see himself getting used to. While he worked, his beau mused, “I really did have a good time tonight. And you thought it up all on your own. I know this kinda thing ain’t really your specialty, but I think you’re figurin’ it out okay.”

“Well, when I have such an experienced teacher, how could I not?” Alastor snickered.

“C’mon, I’m bein’ serious.” Angel flicked his ear lightly, forcing it to twitch away from the touch. “I’m tryin’ to say thanks for takin’ me out and lettin’ it just be…normal. It’s kinda fun to pretend once in a while.”

Alastor’s brow furrowed at that. _Pretend?_ Was that how he thought of their date? Of course it was. Of course he didn’t have the same sentiments about their relationship that Alastor did. All the sincerity and familiarity he’d enjoyed about the night had simply been a novelty, a game to Angel, who still saw their dynamic as a professional one.

Laying his head down against his arms, the Radio Demon spoke quietly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, cher. That was the entire idea behind the outing. And you’re right. It can be fun to…pretend.” _Coward. Tell him why it bothers you. Tell him you want this to be real._

But he couldn’t. There was too great a risk that confessing his feelings—even if he were somehow able to cobble them into intelligible words—would end Angel’s interest in him altogether. Even a pretend relationship was better than going back to pining and suffering in silent envy as _his_ beau was passed around the entire rotten population of Hell.

Angel continued his work for a few more minutes, gentle enough that Alastor was almost lulled to sleep, before speaking again. “Hey, Al?”

“Hm?”

“I was wonderin’ if you might wanna…” His fingertips trailed down Alastor’s spine to the base of his tail, bringing him forcibly back to full consciousness. “I mean, what’re the chances of you lettin’ me touch you?”

It took a moment for Alastor to work through his shock enough to answer. “N҉ow҉, y҉ou m҉ean҉?” There was a notable crackle of static in his voice from the very sudden shift in mood. Had Angel asked ten minutes ago, while they were still wrapped up in each other’s arms (or any time before that statement about ‘pretending’), it was very possible Alastor would’ve agreed, at least tentatively. But now, his guard was back up and he no longer felt quite as comfortable, so it didn’t seem the best idea. “I’m not sure…”

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t wanna. You know that. I just figured I’d offer since we’ve been havin’ a good time so far.” A moment passed in silence as he leaned forward to press his hands firmly up Alastor’s back, using what slight weight he had to apply more pressure than before. Despite himself, the Radio Demon dropped his head and let out a low moan, and he was vaguely aware of Angel tensing up. “Uh. D’ya think you might wanna try…touchin’ me instead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, RadioDust fans! Sorry for the delay, but I'm back to regular updates now. If you want more frequent updates about what's going on with me and my work, please feel free to [follow me on Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme)! In the meantime, thanks to my wonderful patrons: Sammy, Skarleth, Alyssa, squish, and Lovecraft_inspired! I wouldn't be able to continue my RadioDust works without your support. 💖


	6. On the Tip of My Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello naughty children, it's rating change time. 👀 If you want more frequent WIP updates, please feel free to [follow me on Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme)! In the meantime, thanks to my wonderful patrons: Sammy, Skarleth, Alyssa, squish, Lovecraft_inspired, Jasmin, and swordfish260! I wouldn't be able to continue my RadioDust works without your support. 💖

When Alastor didn’t answer right away, Angel quickly continued, “I mean, if not it’s okay! I’m not tryin’ to getcha to do anything ya don’t wanna. I’m just not used to goin’ without for so long—uh, not sayin’ you have any kinda obligation or… Ugh, I’m makin’ it weird now, aren’t I? Forget I said anything.” He awkwardly climbed off Alastor’s back to bury his face into his pillow, practically glowing with embarrassment.

In truth, Alastor was seriously considering the offer. It surprised him how much less intimidating the prospect was when Angel was the one conceding to be vulnerable. Beyond that, he’d already acknowledged that whatever pleased his beau would please him too. Moving a bit closer, running his fingers through Angel’s curls, he asked, “Is it something you want, ma sucrette?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Angel peered up at him bashfully. “It gets a little hard not to sometimes, when we’re in bed and you’re kissin’ and touchin’ all over me. I don’t wanna be pushy about it, so I wasn’t gonna ask, but…I wanted you ever since you made me beg earlier.” He nodded toward Alastor’s desk chair to remind him. And that simple idea, the thought that Angel _wanted_ him, struck a very particular chord within Alastor’s chest. 

Resting a hand on Angel’s lower back and leaning down to plant a kiss on his shoulder, he confessed quietly, “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

“That’s okay. I bet it’ll be kinda hot, sayin’ it out loud,” the spider chuckled, scooting closer. “You sure, though? I really don’t want to if you’re not into it.”

“I am. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t bother trying,” Alastor explained with a laugh of his own. Sliding one arm around his beau’s waist to banish any distance between them, he leaned down and licked Angel’s lips softly. “Is this a good place to start?”

“Uh-huh.” It was a good thing, because kissing was the most familiar territory they’d established in this area. While they were focused on that, Angel distractedly entangled his legs with Alastor’s, allowing Alastor’s thigh to slide between his legs. When he caught Alastor’s tongue to suck on it softly, the Radio Demon’s body jerked, and his leg pressed harder against Angel through his thin panties. Based on the whimper that passed from the spider’s lips to his own, Alastor could only assume that was what Angel wanted. Struggling to focus past his own nervous excitement, hoping he wasn’t going too far, he grasped Angel’s hips and pulled them roughly downward, practically forcing his beau to grind against his thigh.

“Ooh, Al…” Angel gasped, clinging tighter to his shirt. Unable to look him in the eye for long while in this position, Alastor instead bent his head down to line Angel’s throat with kisses and, as had become his habit, bruising bites. “Mm, that’s good, honey. I think you might be a natural at this.”

“We’ll see.” Still, it was a relief to know he wasn’t lousing things up already. His thumbs rubbed into Angel’s hips, his kisses trailing lower so that he could bury his face against the softness of his beau’s chest. This part, at least, he knew how to navigate—and Angel had mentioned before that he thought it was cute. As he tried to decide where to go from here, he realized it might be an awkward thing to do from this position and reluctantly drew away. “Would you face the other way, cher?”

“Hm?” It seemed that Angel was already starting to get a bit distracted, but he nodded vaguely and did as he was asked, allowing Alastor to wrap an arm around him and pull him close. The Radio Demon then took his time about trailing his fingers down Angel’s collarbone, along the curve of his side, across the shape of his hipbones, either relishing the anticipation or trying to move past his nerves. Either way, Angel seemed to notice.

“You can just take a minute and, uh, get a feel for it,” he laughed, reaching back to slide his fingers through Alastor’s hair encouragingly. “Don’t think about it like the whole point is to make me cum. Just…enjoy it with me.”

“Right.” Alastor kept his voice even despite his ears burning from Angel’s language. His fingertips wandered down the inside of Angel’s hip to move between his legs, and his warmth sent a thrill of intrigue through Alastor’s core. He knew based on some of their conversations regarding Angel’s experiences in life that their anatomy wasn’t exactly the same (which made this no more or less nerve-wracking, as Alastor had no experience of this sort with either sex). The only choice he had was to slowly explore with his fingertips, feeling out Angel’s shape through his underwear and judging what he liked based on the way his breath hitched and his hips squirmed. 

“That’s right, honey,” he panted as Alastor was leaving a series of marks along the curve of his shoulder. “Mh, you know I’m all yours. Make sure everybody else knows it too.”

The thought gave him another enjoyable shiver. It surprised him not only how easy this was but how much he was enjoying it himself. He couldn’t say that he felt sexual desire in return, but he did get a certain satisfaction from seeing Angel reveling in his touch and his possessiveness. The spider’s breath faltered, his grip on Alastor’s hair tightening, and again he felt a sense of—no, ‘power’ was the wrong word. A sense of being wanted. Of being needed. Another new sensation Angel was introducing him to, and one he liked more than expected.

Leaning in closer so his chest met Angel’s back, he asked softly, “Do you want more? Tell me, mon ange. I want to hear you say it.”

“I—I do,” the spider moaned obediently, losing his breath as Alastor’s hips pressed against his backside. “I want more, Daddy. Please.” He caught Alastor’s hand to drag it up to his lips, then slowly licked up and down each digit, turning his head so that Alastor could watch. When he took two of them in his mouth and ran his tongue between them, the Radio Demon gulped reflexively. He hesitantly moved his fingers, pressing a bit deeper, and Angel’s mouth fell open to let him. The dark pink flush on the spider’s cheeks said he was enjoying being toyed with, which was gratifying for a few reasons.

When Alastor’s fingers were soaked and dripping wet, he slid his hand down the front of Angel’s panties to touch him directly, skin on smooth skin. “Fuck,” the spider moaned, hiding his face against his pillow again.

“Ah-ah-ah, none of that.” Running his free hand through soft pink curls, the Radio Demon grasped them just tightly enough to tilt his beau’s head upward again. “I told you, chéri, I want to hear you. You’ll give me that much, won’t you?” He had long been in the habit of soundproofing the room when they went to bed together, so he knew the pleasure of savoring Angel’s voice would be his alone.

“I’ll…give you whatever ya want,” Angel breathed, shifting onto his back and opening his legs a bit more. “All ya hafta do is ask.” Two of his hands grabbed Alastor’s shirtfront to pull him down for another urgent kiss.

It felt natural enough to explore with his fingers as well as his tongue, as did swallowing every whine that slipped from Angel’s mouth. Everything was so hot and wet, Angel’s voice so soft and meant for his ears only. He still couldn’t imagine ever wanting this from someone else, but with Angel, it was perfect.

Although he had an idea of where to go from here, he waited until Angel pleaded, “Inside?” before carefully pressing two fingers into him. It surprised him how easy it was, prompting another moment of honest wonder at Angel’s body. But it seemed his beau was getting impatient, his hips twitching and grinding downward to take Alastor’s fingers deeper. While his enthusiasm was endearing, it felt a bit too much like he was trying to take control of the situation himself, which Alastor didn’t care for (and, in fact, wasn’t sure he could handle). When he drew his hand away, Angel’s clouded eyes flew open again in concern. “W-wait! Uh, you okay? Was that too much?” Sweet of him to be so conscious of Alastor’s comfort.

“No. I just felt like you were getting ahead of yourself, ma sucrette,” the Radio Demon explained. He sat up enough to slide his fingertips just under the edge of Angel’s panties and help him out of them, then settled between the spider’s legs to continue lazily stroking him. It was clear enough that he was getting desperate, which meant that at this point in their little power play, Alastor was the one holding all the cards. “You do want me to enjoy this, don’t you?”

“Course I do.” Angel’s claws were digging into the sheets so hard they were in danger of ripping, but he managed to keep the rest of his body still. “Does that mean you wanna—”

“You said you would tell me what to do. So if you want something in particular, I’d like you to ask for it instead of trying to do it yourself. I _am_ here to provide for you, aren’t I?”

“I guess,” the spider mumbled, his blushing not fading in the slightest. It was interesting to see him so bashful about all this when he was typically quite comfortable with making lewd comments in public. _Maybe that’s the difference._ This was a very private setting—no cameras, no audience, no character for him to play—which made it far more personal. “Can I have your fingers, then? Inside?”

“Of course.” He forced them back in a bit harder than necessary, but the throaty groan Angel let out said that he didn’t mind.

His body was taut and tense while he struggled to stay passive and begged, “Move?” Pleased with his obedience, Alastor did as he asked, pressing his fingers in and out in a slow rhythm and suppressing a hot shiver from the sound of Angel’s wetness. Some inexplicable urge in the back of his mind wondered whether his beau might taste as sweet as he sounded, but Alastor managed to brush it aside. _One step at a time._ Angel let out a satisfied moan with every thrust of Alastor’s fingers, combing his hair back with one hand and practically trembling with the effort of keeping himself still. “Faster.”

That almost sounded like an order. “What do we say, cher?”

Angel shivered and whined, “Please! I’m tryin’ to be good, but I need it faster, Daddy. Don’t you wanna see me get all hot ‘n’ bothered for you?”

Oh. That was unexpected. Not only the earnest tone of his voice but the way Alastor’s body and mind responded to it. “Well, when you put it that way…” He did as Angel asked, picking up his pace and losing track of his breath for a moment as Angel’s body tightened around his fingers. Maybe he could see himself getting into this after all.

“F-fuck yes.” The spider was panting openly, his head tilted back, his chest heaving with every breath. Alastor wet his lips, his free hand wandering up to absently stroke the softness of Angel’s chest. His beau let out a soft and honest “mm” and looked up at him in mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to be treated without begging for it first. But soon enough, that surprise was replaced with a smile so sweet Alastor could practically taste it. “Toldja you were gettin’ the hang of it. Ya got me…eatin’ outta your hands already.”

“I’m not sure that’s _exactly_ what you want my hands for,” the Radio Demon teased, sliding his fingers as deep as possible and pressing them upward to steal Angel’s breath. “But I am glad to know you’re enjoying this.”

The spider let out an airy laugh. “You’re sellin’ yourself short, honey. Um. Can you touch me”—he slid his own fingertips between his legs to touch himself very lightly—“here?” Alastor was only stumped for a moment before sliding his thumb against the spot Angel had touched, rubbing it in slow circles. His beau let out a quiet squeak and curled his legs up reflexively.

“Is something wrong?” Alastor asked, unsure whether that reaction was a positive one.

“No! It’s just…been a while, okay?” Angel admitted, avoiding his eyes and forcing his legs back down. “Don’t make me wait any more, honey; all this teasin’ is drivin’ me crazy.”

“Ma pauvre sucrette,” the Radio Demon chuckled, his free hand sliding up the side of his beau’s leg. Still, he gave Angel what he asked for, figuring out a method of moving his fingers while still providing friction against the spot where he was most sensitive. And he clearly wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was struggling. Within hardly a minute, his entire body was tense, every muscle tightened as he quivered with impatience.

“Yes, Daddy, give it to me.” His breathless voice sent a delicious chill down Alastor’s spine. He found himself itching with a desire to kiss Angel, to be as close to him as possible while exploring him so thoroughly, and he couldn’t help feeling it would be easier if he weren’t using his hands. Something to be examined later. “Al, I’m…close, honey. Can you…harder?”

“Anything you need, cher.” And he wanted it himself, he realized. As he leaned closer, pressed harder, relished his beau’s longing moans, he was anticipating Angel’s satisfaction just as much as Angel was himself. And he didn’t have to wait for long.

“Yes, yes, Daddy, don’t stop, I’m—I’m gonna—” The spider let out a high-pitched cry, then quickly devolved into low, ragged groans as his hips bucked and his spine arched with his orgasm. Although his riding Alastor’s hand like that was breaking the rules set out earlier, the sight and feelings that came with it were too sublime to punish. “Fuck—yes—Alastor! I’m…cumming, Daddy…!”

Alastor was slowly but surely getting used to this kind of language, but the _tone_ in which he said it, somehow grateful and greedy for more all at once, evoked a very particular mix of tension and fulfillment inside him. Unable to stand waiting any longer, he slipped his fingers out of his beau, then pinned him to the bed with a rough, demanding kiss. Angel let out an overwhelmed whimper but accepted the violent affection without protest, all six of his limbs wrapping around Alastor to keep him close.

When Alastor had thoroughly ravished his mouth, Angel finally broke away to gasp in a deep breath, panting hard, apparently struggling to calm down after all that excitement. “Holy…shit,” he mumbled, seeming a bit dazed as Alastor lay down next to him and drew him into his arms. He was still shaking slightly even now that his body had completely relaxed, but the weak smile on his lips eased Alastor’s concerns. Snuggled up to the Radio Demon’s chest, he said bashfully, “Thanks for uh…y’know. Takin’ care of me.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Besides”—he leaned down to press his lips against Angel’s throat and went on with a wicked grin—“how could I resist treating you when you were such a _good boy_?”

“A~l!” Angel whined, covering his face with two hands. “Ya can’t say shit like that and expect me not to wanna go another round. Y’know, _you_ didn’t get any attention. Y’sure ya don’t wanna give it a try?” Angel’s fingers curled in his belt loops, and he bit back a nervous laugh.

“Let’s not get greedy, mon ange.” Firmly but not harshly, he pried his beau’s hand away from his waistline to hold it in his own. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t considered it while he was enjoying seeing angel so ‘hot and bothered,’ but it still seemed a step too far for this night. It had been such a nice evening, and he’d already conceded to one gamble; he didn’t want to ruin it by biting off more than he could chew (so to speak). “I wouldn’t want to spoil you too much.”

“Mm, fair enough,” Angel sighed, relaxing against him and not pressing the issue any further. “But if you’re tryna keep from spoilin’ me, it’s a little late for that.” He lifted his head for one more slow, leisurely kiss, before finally settling in with a sigh of contentment.

Within only a few minutes, he was sound asleep, and Alastor was left alone with his thoughts. He didn’t sleep much himself, so their nights often ended with him reflecting on the time they’d spent together, which only led to him falling deeper and deeper into…whatever it was he’d stumbled into here. He replayed the evening in his head, enjoying the whole thing for a second time—right up until Angel made that comment about ‘pretending.’

Yet moments later, he was practically begging Alastor to touch him, asking to be marked, obeying every little command Alastor issued. There had to be something to that. That moment when his eyelids fluttered in surprise, and then he smiled… Alastor’s heart tripped over itself at the thought of that smile, and he cursed it for being so unreliable.

Well, he’d decided one thing for certain: killing Angel to escape his web was no longer an option. He was very thoroughly ensnared and begrudgingly happy to be that way, so the only thing to do was to make sure Angel remained happy to be with _him_. Surely, given enough time, his beau would come to see their relationship the same way he did. And until then, he would continue to play the role he’d been cast. He’d never liked to disappoint an audience.


	7. Starved for Attention

It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the hotel received a rush of new business over the next few weeks. Since they now employed not one Overlord but two and the second happened to be the sort with connections all over Hell, it was natural that their cause would gain some ground. Whether or not Venture actually believed in what they were trying to accomplish, she took to her work with gusto regardless; she must have determined there was some way she could profit after all. Either that, or Charlie had gotten to her even more than expected.

A few things happened during this period. First, because Venture knew about it and didn’t realize it was privileged information, the rest of the hotel soon became aware of the exact nature of Alastor’s relationship with Angel—the transactional nature of it, that is. There was a brief period wherein some of their guests found it just hilarious to poke fun at Alastor, making jokes to the tune of:

“Hey, it’s no big deal; a lotta guys have to pay to get any down here.”

“You know that spider’s packin’ the goods if he’s got someone like Al hooked.”

“Hope he doesn’t have you paying his hourly rates; you’ll go broke in a week.”

Alastor bore all that with a forced smile, his patience growing thinner and thinner with every comment. No, he didn’t care much what any of them thought, but they could at least have the decency to keep their thoughts to themselves. He especially disliked the idea that any of them might be imagining what went on between him and Angel behind closed doors. It was none of their business.

The final straw was when one of their newer patrons—a gent who hadn’t yet gotten to know the dynamics of the staff—made the mistake of wondering aloud when he could get a ‘turn’ with Angel. He also made some crude remarks about Angel’s body and his own (in comparison to Alastor’s), which gave the Radio Demon exactly the excuse he’d been looking for to make an example of him.

After he made a show of using his shadows to threaten the fellow’s life, the jokes abruptly stopped. _Funny how that works._ (Incidentally, Angel later cornered him in their room with a desperate kiss, practically beside himself with excitement as he explained what a turn-on it was to see Alastor get violent in his defense.)

Unfortunately, Venture’s presence and the hotel’s subsequent increase in business meant that Alastor had a lot more to do as well. It seemed she and Charlie had conspired against him in secret and were now combining their powers of persuasion to get him to perform _actual managerial tasks_. Up until this point, he’d been very happy as a sort of figurehead, contributing his reputation and sparkling charisma when called on, but little else. But with Charlie’s earnest, relentless incentives now backed up by Venture’s fast talking (which rivaled even his own), it became that much harder to distance himself and watch the whole thing play out like the silly farce it was.

In short, his role became an actual job. _Why did I get **her** involved in the first place?_ That might have been a miscalculation. Worse yet, being forced to spend so much time and effort on them, he was actually starting to care in some ways about the hotel’s operations. He still didn’t believe in Charlie’s naïve hope of redeeming sinners and made no secret of it, but learning the ins and outs of each new patron and what delusions brought them to hotel was every bit as entertaining as he’d expected.

Entertaining for him, that is. Not everyone felt the same way.

“You’d be shocked at how difficult a concept it is to market,” Venture sighed from her seat next to him at the bar, absently swirling the last bit of a dirty martini in her glass. The two of them had just finished yet another strategy meeting with Charlie and Vaggie and were taking a moment to unwind before jumping into their next tasks.

“Nah, not really.” Husk was working on a bottle of his own, leaning against the bar and listening to them complain (as bartenders typically did). “If you woulda brought it up to me a few months ago, I woulda thought you were fuckin’ with me.”

“Oh, she doesn’t joke when it comes to business,” Alastor argued, sipping his tonic water. “Believe me, I learned that the hard way.”

“That was a misunderstanding, dear, and we cleared it up quickly enough.” She airily waved the thought away as if their first meeting hadn’t involved her threatening him at knifepoint. Only briefly, but any amount of knifeplay was significant in his book. She’d lightened up significantly since then, he couldn’t help thinking.

“And what about now?” Gesturing to the hotel lobby, he asked, “Do you still think our little endeavor here is beyond hope?”

“You say ‘our’ as if you had a hand in starting it,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, I now have both hands in _running_ it, thanks to you.”

“Yeah, how’s it feel to get roped into shit you didn’t sign up for?” Husk jeered, waving his bottle in Alastor’s direction.

“Are you still sore about that, Husker?”

“Don’t worry, darling; if I rope you into anything”—Venture reached across the bar to lightly tap Husk’s nose with her fingertip—“I’ll be sure to get your explicit consent first.”

Alastor could barely hold back a snort of laughter at the disarmed shock on his friend’s face while he cleared his throat and tried to brush the comment aside despite being visibly flustered. Although she’d never bothered trying to wield it against Alastor himself, Venture was nearly as bad as Angel when it came to zero-warning flirtation like that.

“Sorry to interrupt your little bull session here.” _Speak of the devil…_ Alastor’s body tensed as his beau’s arms draped around his shoulders. Leaning in close to rest his head against Alastor’s, Angel whined, “You were s’posed to let me know when you got outta your meeting. You been ignorin’ me all day and I’m gettin’ restless. Take me shopping.”

“Is that something you need me to be present for?” Alastor was quite proud of himself for keeping his voice level despite how intensely his heart was racing from Angel’s nearness and his familiarity in mixed company. They’d hardly seen each other at all that day, so this was more playful banter than an actual objection. “You’ve been very good at spending my money independently so far.”

“Aww, but dontcha wanna dress me up?” he purred, toying with the ends of Alastor’s hair. “Besides, if I go by myself, who’s gonna carry all my bags?” Seeing that Alastor was still resisting, Angel leaned in closer to speak into his ear, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear the rest of his proposition. “And when we get back, we can spend the rest of the night in bed. I’ll give ya the best massage you’ve had in your life and aaall the kisses you want. Don’t make me beg, Daddy.”

“That’s…fine, ma sucrette,” the Radio Demon conceded, leaning away and gently brushing Angel’s arms off. “Give me half an hour and we’ll be on our way.”

Angel responded with a stubborn pout, “Fifteen minutes.”

“A full hour?” Alastor suggested, raising an eyebrow, and the spider let out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. Half an hour. I’ll be upstairs dyin’ of boredom ‘til you’re ready for me.” He turned on his heel to strut impetuously toward the stairs.

Once he was gone, Alastor rolled his shoulders back and growled through the static building up around him, “If you two could both stop looking at me like that, it would be just swell.”

“Like what, dear?” Venture asked, the amusement on her face not fading in the slightest. “Like our Angel might have you wrapped around his _sweet_ little finger?”

“Wrapped around somethin’, anyway,” Husk muttered in agreement, taking another swig from his bottle.

“You’re spoiling him absolutely rotten, though.” Venture let out a hissing sigh, resting her chin in her hand and watching Alastor in annoyance as if he had done something to personally offend her. “He’s going to be impossible to work with after all this.”

“Then it’s a good thing you won’t need to!” Despite his efforts at keeping his tone amiable, there was still a soft grumble of static underscoring his voice, a warning that said this was dangerous territory. A warning Venture inevitably failed to heed.

“Please, Alastor, I know you. You’re not the sort to get invested in just one person and tie yourself to them for long, no matter how charming they might be. You’ll get bored of this eventually, and when you do, I’ll be the one helping Angel get back to work—and you should be glad that it’s me and not someone else.”

“You’re assuming a lot, my friend,” he answered through gritted teeth. “You know the more you tell me I can’t do something, the harder I’ll try to prove you wrong.”

“And maybe you could, if your feelings about the situation were the only ones that mattered.” She tossed back the rest of her drink and tipped her glass at Husk. “Could I have another of these, ya albi?” To Alastor, she added in much less sugared tones, “But I’m sure you realize it’s more complicated than that.”

He didn’t answer, tapping one finger against the side of his glass, brow furrowed. It continually frustrated him that she talked as if she knew so much more about Angel than he did. While it might be true in a professional sense, she hadn’t seen the way he lit up when Alastor came back from his day’s work all over the city. She didn’t hear the reluctance in his voice when they had to part in the morning. She didn’t know how many times he had pushed himself to stay up past the point of exhaustion just so they could spend a few hours talking.

“We’ll just see,” Alastor answered, eager to change the subject. “Say, Husker, have you ever told Venn that one about the three illusionists in Las Vegas?”

They spent the next half-hour on more amiable conversation, but Alastor left promptly once the time was up. His work had kept him so busy lately that they’d hardly had time to plan outings like these, so maybe the spontaneous route was the better way to go. And he did like the idea of buying a few things for Angel to make up for his absence.

When he got up to their room, he found Angel seated at his desk, painting his nails. “You had half an hour all to yourself and you’re doing that now?” he asked as he shut the door behind him. “Here I thought you were dying to get out of the hotel, but you aren’t even ready to leave.”

“Whatever. I don’t feel like goin’ out anymore,” his beau grumbled, frowning down at his work.

“So fickle.” Alastor sighed as he came to lean against the edge of the desk and watch him. “I was looking forward to taking you out.”

“Right, I forgot that’s all that matters.” The cutting tone of Angel’s voice came as a surprise.

“Is it me,” Alastor began after a moment, “or are you being a bit of a brat today?” Angel let out a scoff and rolled his eyes, only further proving his point. And didn’t a situation like this call for discipline? He’d learned already that his beau enjoyed that sort of thing, so maybe he was being difficult on purpose. Tilting Angel’s chin upward so their eyes met, he said evenly, “I asked you a question, cher.”

Angel jerked away from his touch with an irritated sneer. “Sour. I’m not in the mood.”

Alastor hesitated, at a loss. They had established that safeword—sour—early on in their forays into sex, but it had never been used before. He’d thought that playing his typical role in their relationship was his safest bet right now, but he’d trained himself to listen for that word and know exactly what it meant: no more games.

“What’s the matter, mon ange?” he asked more gently, not making any move to touch Angel this time. “Something’s clearly bothering you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He now had his hands underneath an odd little lamp for some reason (manicures must have changed over the years). When Alastor had been so dedicated to making him happy ever since the start of their relationship, seeing him so distinctly otherwise was concerning to say the least. “Look, I said I don’t wanna go. Just leave me alone. Go back downstairs and drink with your friends or read a book or help Charlie pick out lampshades or some shit. I don’t care.”

The conclusion from all that seemed obvious, but Alastor still hesitated to jump to it. “You’re jealous?”

“No!” Angel snapped. “I mean, not— Ugh, you’re so fuckin’ clueless.” He dropped his head to rest against the heels of his hands. “Does it not bug you that we’ve barely had any time together lately? I mean, you been payin’ my way for a couple months now, but the past few weeks, you hardly ever collect on your end of the deal. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I don’t hold it against _you_ , if that’s what you’re thinking.” Of course it bothered him. Of course he preferred to have as much time with his beau as possible. But he knew the inconvenience came entirely from his schedule and Angel couldn’t be blamed for it. It didn’t invalidate their ‘deal’ in any way.

“It’s not.” Still without looking even remotely in Alastor’s direction, Angel mused, “You ever think about that first night I spent in here? When you gave me the choice to stay or go? Didja ever wonder why I stayed?”

“I…haven’t thought about it for a while.” To be honest, some cynical part of him thought it was purely a professional effort on Angel’s part, while another more sentimental part wanted to believe it was sentiment-motivated. There was also the idea that he was just looking for sex—but Angel had dispelled that himself in his reaction to Alastor’s discomfort that night. “But if you’d like to tell me, I’m all ears.”

There was a moment of silence wherein Angel’s expression was unreadable. His brows were furrowed, his mouth set in a reluctant grimace, his eyes staring down at the desktop as if he wasn’t really seeing it. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m just used to havin’ company most of the time. And if I don’t, I’m used to bein’ able to go find some. This”—he gestured vaguely—“thing with you means I can’t do that anymore.”

A hollow pit formed in Alastor’s stomach, a low, scratchy static building up in his vicinity. Was this a threat? ‘Pay attention to me or I’ll look for it elsewhere’? Or maybe it was more distress than warning; ‘I miss the way I used to do things.’ He wasn’t sure which was worse. “Is that… Ahem. Would you rather be free to find it on your own?”

Several seconds passed in agonizing silence before his beau let out a measured sigh. “No. But I’m startin’ to feel like it doesn’t matter a whole lot what I’d rather.”

“Oh.” What on Earth was he supposed to say to this? Just a few minutes ago, he’d been so sure that Angel was happy with the way things were between them, yet now all of that was called into question. Maybe Venture was right. Maybe Angel was the one getting bored of being tied down. The awkward, forced curve on his lips could hardly even be called a smile as his mind worked overtime looking for a solution. “If this has been bothering you, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“’Cause it _shouldn’t_ be botherin’ me.” Unable to sit still any longer, Angel shoved to his feet and started pacing back and forth across the room, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. “It’s basically paid time off. As long as you kept payin’ me, it shouldn’t’ve been a problem. I coulda found somethin’ to keep me busy. I got hobbies! I should _like_ havin’ time to myself!”

“But you don’t?”

“Sure I do, for a while,” he agreed offhandedly. “But then I start gettin’ bored and thinkin’ too much and Charlie keeps buggin’ me to talk about how that makes me _feel_ and—” He planted his feet and shook his head almost violently as if trying to fling those thought out of his mind.

_He’s lonely._ That was the long and the short of it.

It occurred to Alastor that he’d been thinking of their time together the same way Angel was suggesting it ‘should’ be: as a professional obligation, something he indulged in for Alastor’s enjoyment but could just as easily do without himself. By that logic, the extra time he spent working was only taking away from _him_. But from the sound of things, that wasn’t the case. Whatever their relationship was, Angel benefited from it just like he did. He wasn’t sure now why he’d assumed otherwise.

“I think I understand, cher, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to get it. This arrangement isn’t supposed to be just for my benefit. If you feel like I’m not holding up my end, you should say so.”

The spider shrugged without much feeling. “You’re already payin’ me. That should be enough.”

“But if it isn’t, that’s fine,” Alastor insisted, cautiously making his way closer, trying to read Angel’s body language to avoid upsetting him again. “If you want my attention to be a part of your payment, it can be.”

Angel eyed him warily but didn’t draw away. “Yeah? What do I hafta trade for it?”

“Nothing at all! The way I see it, you’ve been undercharging me for your company all this time anyway. Maybe now we’ll finally be even. So any time you start doubting how much I value you, just tell me, and I’ll do everything in my power to remind you.” He stopped a few inches from his beau and offered his hand. “Deal?”

After a moment more of shrewd consideration, Angel smiled, a smile like the sun cutting through storm clouds, and brushed Alastor’s hand aside. “Deal,” he purred, wrapping his arms around Alastor’s shoulders for a kiss, which the Radio Demon accepted voraciously.

Immensely relieved to have calmed his beau’s anger—or pain, or whatever it was he was wrestling with—and realizing how shockingly concerned he’d been by the sight of Angel in pain, he recalled that assertion that Venture had made earlier. _Angel might have you wrapped around his little finger._

Well, what did it matter, really? There were worse places to be.

“Hmm, I knew you missed me more than you were lettin’ on,” Angel laughed breathlessly when they parted. “Guess you got a sweet tooth after all, huh, Daddy?”

“Only for a very particular brand of sugar. And on that note—” He slid one hand up the back of his beau’s neck to grasp a fistful of his hair, leading him to bend down so he had to look up to meet Alastor’s eyes. “I don’t want to hear any more about you looking for ‘company’ from other men. Is that understood?”

Shivering, biting his lip with a poorly-suppressed smile, the spider cooed, “Yessir. Besides, maybe I only said that ‘cause I knew it’d get a rise outta you.” When he’d so quickly shifted back into his usual playful attitude, it was difficult to tell how much of this was fully sincere and how much was just Angel being cute. But considering he’d just spent the past several minutes being as honest about his feelings as Alastor had ever seen him, there was no sense in complaining. 

“So now that you’re feeling like yourself enough to be cheeky, can I assume our night out is back on?”

“Oh yeah, you’re not gettin’ out of it that easy. Just lemme change and we can go.”

While watching Angel hurry around the room collecting the various garments and accessories he wanted for the evening, Alastor sat on the edge of the bed and found himself still thinking about the conversation they’d just had. Angel might act as if he’d completely moved on from it, but given how upset he’d been earlier, that seemed unlikely. Whatever had spurred him to such unusual anger and sadness had to be deeper than he was letting on—but Alastor couldn’t bring himself to ask and force his beau back into that dark, uncertain place.

Luckily (though good luck or bad was debatable), he had a feeling the subject would crop up again in the future, whether they wanted it to or not.

— — —

By the time they got back to the hotel from their evening of shopping and generally carousing around town, the lobby was already shut down for the day but still dimly lit from the inside. Angel, who was still slightly tipsy, had been clinging to Alastor’s arm for the past half-hour, promising all sorts of things—ranging from sweet to downright sinful—for when they got back to their room. Alastor was admittedly eager to be back in their own space for a few reasons, but when they got inside, they found the lobby wasn’t totally deserted after all.

Seated at the bar across the room was a short, swarthy, orange-haired woman with vulpine ears on top of her head and three long, voluminous tails. Even the angular proportions of her face gave her a distinctly foxlike image. When her intense green eyes fell on Angel, her ears perked up, and her mouth split into a cold smile, displaying a shining gold tooth identical to his.

“Anthony,” she cooed, “how nice to see you again. It’s been ages.”

Angel went rigid at the sight of her, apparently sobering up from her presence alone. “Holy shit,” he muttered in undisguised horror. “What. What’re you doin’ here?”

“What else would I be doing in this ridiculous place? I’m here to catch up with you, of course!” The long, visibly sharp metallic caps on her fingernails glinted as she tapped them along the bar, suggesting the talk wouldn’t be as friendly as she made it out. “Let’s chat for a minute, baby. Just like old times.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of one fight and right into another. >.> Chapter 8 is on its way! For all the earliest updates on my work, [pls consider following me on Twitter~](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme).  
> Thanks as always to my patrons: Sammy, Skarleth, Alyssa, squish, Lovecraft_inspired, Jasmin, swordfish260, and Alex. I wouldn't be able to continue my RadioDust work without your support! 💖 Enjoy!


	8. Bitter Aftertaste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you kids are ready for some ✨suffering✨! If you haven't already, pls consider [following me on Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme/) to get all the latest RadioDust Angst Updates~

The fox-woman hopped down from her bar stool to make her way closer, never taking her eyes off Angel. She was dressed in one of those very luxuriant robes from Japan, the sort with the long sleeves (though he couldn’t help thinking it showed rather more skin than entirely necessary). The last few inches of intricate olive green silk swept the ground behind her as she walked.

“Oh, and is this the new flavor of the month?” she asked, sweeping her eyes up and down Alastor. Observing the many shopping bags he’d brought in, she went on, “It looks like he’s taking care of you well. I still wonder what it is about you that makes men fall all over themselves to spoil you.”

_Well that was a bit uncalled for._

“Where’ve you been all this time?” Angel asked, ignoring her taunts, though he seemed more lost than resilient. “Shit, Peach, I thought you were dead or somethin’!”

“Wishful thinking on your part, sweetie. So nice of you to think of me after you drove me off in the first place, though.” She—‘Peach’—sauntered across the lobby floor toward him, her gaze much harder than the false kindness in her voice. “And for what? Just so you could get bored of it eventually and run off? Val should’ve known you didn’t have a loyal bone in your body.”

“Excuse me,” Alastor cut in with a winning smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. May I ask how you know Angel?”

“Aaangel,” she repeated, rolling her eyes powerfully. “It is _Angel_ now, isn’t it? You mean he hasn’t mentioned me? That’s funny, considering I’m the reason he got to where he is today.”

“Bullshit,” Angel snapped, finally moving past his shock enough to get defensive. “You helped me out when I first got started but the rest of it’s been _my_ hard work.”

“You have a funny definition of ‘hard work’ if you think lying on your back for fifty years qualifies.” All the congeniality had fled Peach’s voice so it matched the venom in her eyes. She was only about half Angel’s height, but she still looked ready to pounce on him at a moment’s notice—which in turn meant that Alastor was ready to intervene if necessary. “All you’ve ever done is leech off the people around you and expect them to carry you wherever you want to go. And for some reason I _still_ don’t understand, they always do! Like you!” She turned abruptly to Alastor, who simply smiled back at her.

“What about me?”

“You’re obviously his meal ticket these days, and I’m sure you spoil him for doing nothing just like Val did,” she answered, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Knowing how much animosity there was between Angel and Valentino, he didn’t much appreciate the comparison. “I don’t get it! The sex can’t possibly be that good.”

“That definitely isn’t the reason I enjoy Angel’s company.”

“Oh, so you’re one of the ones who caught feelings. In that case, I feel sorry for you,” the vixen said, tails swishing irritably behind her. They might not know each other very well, but Alastor was quickly deciding that he disliked this woman. “You’re going to be disappointed when you find out he’s not capable of love. Or fidelity. Or honesty. He’s just going to string you along until he gets bored and then move on to the next idiot who’s willing to put up with him.”

“Look, did you just come here to insult me or what?” Angel growled, stalking closer to bear down on her with a sneer. “Just wanted to make me feel like shit about myself for old times’ sake? Or was there actually a point?”

“I came here to see you at a low point, sure.” Peach’s voice was again dripping with forced sweetness. “But no, that’s not all. I don’t have to tell you that we still have a score to settle. I could never get close to you before, what with Val keeping you all cozy in the studio. But now he’s not here to protect you. I don’t know about you, baby, but I’m sick and fucking tired of putting this off.”

She lunged, shockingly fast, but Alastor was faster. With a snap of his fingers, the shadows rushed in and coiled around her wrist to drag her backward away from Angel. She let out a furious shriek and swiped at them with her other hand, trying to wrench free.

“Alastor, don’t hurt her!” Angel told him quickly, clutching at his neck where her claws had grazed him. If Alastor hadn’t been there, she might have torn his throat out right then! As it was, he was only bleeding slightly.

“I don’t plan to, but I’m also not going to stand here and watch her hurt _you_.”

“Alastor?” Peach repeated, her struggles dying down immediately. “You’re kidding. You have the goddamn Radio Demon hanging off you now? How in the hell do you have a new Overlord bodyguard for every day of the week?”

“Are you really still pissed at me for what happened with Val?” While Alastor maintained his hold on the woman to keep her from attacking, Angel approached her cautiously. “You still want him back after how he acted back then?”

“Shut up!” she barked. “He never treated me that way until _you_ showed up.”

“But he always treated the other girls that way. Then it was your turn. Then it was mine. You think I’d be here if he was treatin’ me right?” the spider demanded. “It’s just how he is! He’s a fuckin’ user and everybody who deals with him has to learn it sometime. If you’d stayed with him, you woulda wound up exactly where I am now.”

“I said shut up!” She swiped at him again and then, realizing she couldn’t reach, instead spat a ball of blue fire in his direction. Angel was forced to stumble back and only narrowly avoided getting scorched. Under any other circumstances, Alastor would’ve watched all this play out with unabashed amusement, but when it was his beau being put in danger, it was impossible to enjoy. His smile sharpened into a sneer as he wrapped another shadowy tendril over Peach’s mouth and restrained her other arm for good measure, utterly unmoved by the furious tears streaming down her face.

“Are you all right, cher?”

“Yeah,” Angel muttered, crossing both sets of arms and keeping his distance from the fox this time but still watching her sadly. “What the hell happened to you…?”

“Do you two know what time it is?” The overhead lights switched on, and all three of them glanced toward the foot of the stairs, where Venture stood with her hand on the light switch. She wore an elaborate dressing gown and had her hair down as if she’d just come from bed—which made sense, given how late it was. Her eyes widened at the sight of Peach, then quickly narrowed into a glower. “Momoka. What are you doing here?”

After moving to put himself between the vixen and his beau, Alastor waved away his shadows so that she could explain herself. If he were fully honest, he appreciated having his friend there as backup.

“Ugh. Why does it not surprise me that you’re here too?” Peach snarled, bristling even further at the sight of the serpentine businesswoman and cradling her reddened wrist. “Of course the two of you are working together. Of course you would double-cross Val if you could turn a profit on it.”

A moment passed in silence, Venture observing the scene and Angel’s distress, then she looked to Peach again and said coolly, “I think you should be going, my pretty, before you embarrass yourself.”

At first, it seemed like she might argue—but soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, and several of the hotel’s other inhabitants wandered into the lobby. Quickly realizing she was outnumbered, Peach let out a choked scream of frustration and disappeared from the room in another blaze of blue flames.

“Are you all right?” Venture asked Angel, beating Alastor to the punch, and he had to bite back a possessive growl. It was no threat to him for Venture to be concerned for Angel. Still, she could have seen that this was his place and not hers. “I can only assume she was here to pick a fight with you.”

“I’m fine,” Angel mumbled, seeming thoroughly uncomfortable (for once) with all the attention he was receiving at the moment.

“Shall we go to bed, mon ange?” Alastor asked gently, and his beau nodded. Shifting into showman mode for the moment, the Radio Demon addressed all the others present: “Thank you all for your concern, and I’m terribly sorry if our little fracas woke you! But now that our intruder has been dealt with, I think it’s best that we get back to bed. All of us.” That last was said firmly enough to convince most of the hotel’s guests that Alastor knew what would be best for them. The few who remained—particularly Charlie and Venture—were easily waved off with a few casual words and a merciful understanding that Angel needed privacy more than he needed a group’s concern.

The two of them retreated to Alastor’s room, locking the door behind them, and Angel immediately collapsed to sit on the edge of the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered quietly, dropping his head into his hands. Disconcerted over seeing his beau so uncharacteristically miserable for the second time in a single day, Alastor set aside their shopping and cautiously seated himself at Angel’s side.

“Is this something you’d like to talk about, cher?” In truth, he wanted answers desperately himself, but he didn’t want to force a conversation that Angel wasn’t ready to have. From the sound of things, there was a lot of history tied up in that argument and a lot of emotional investment on both sides.

“Like to? No. Should we? Prob’ly,” his beau answered, leaning easily against his shoulder, seeming eager for physical contact. “Sorry. I guess you were kinda lost during all that.”

“I did my best to follow along. I gather this Peach was once a coworker of yours?”

“Somethin’ like that. She was around when I first started workin’ for Val,” Angel explained, snuggling closer still to Alastor’s side. “She was his favorite before me, see, and we wound up bein’ friends. I didn’t mean to… No. I did. I made friends with her, and then I stole Val out from under her. I figured out what he liked. Figured out how to make him want me. And once I did that, once he liked me better than anyone else—” He shrugged. “—that was it. Then I was the favorite. I was the star. And Peach just kinda disappeared.”

“I see.” Suddenly her anger with him at least made more sense, though it was no easier to condone.

“We never knew where she went. Val wasn’t that worried about it, I guess, and I was too busy or too fucked up to bother wonderin’. God, I was such a prick to her. She helped me when I didn’t have a clue what I was doin’, and how’d I pay her back? By stealin’ everything she worked for. Whatever’s happened to her since she left, it’s my fault.” All four of Angel’s arms wrapped around Alastor to hold him closer, and he buried his face again Alastor’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to talk about this, cher,” the Radio Demon said gently, running his fingers through his beau’s hair. “Whatever happened between you two, it’s in the past. It’s not where you are now. There’s no point in beating yourself up for it.”

“I guess. It’s just…hard. Wishin’ you coulda done shit differently, havin’ all these regrets.” Angel’s voice turned bitter again as he added, “I got a lotta those.”

“Don’t we all?” Alastor was still stuck on something he’d mentioned earlier. “Ahem. You said you ‘stole’ Valentino. So you actively sought his attention? On purpose?”

The spider let out a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, believe it or not, he used to be crazy about me. He was real nice back then, always spoilin’ me and keepin’ me close by, makin’ sure I was happy. When he started gettin’ sweet on me, he wouldn’t let me turn tricks anymore either. Unless it was for a shoot, he didn’t want me fuckin’ anyone but him.”

Alastor remained very still, staring unseeing at the far wall, painfully aware of every similarity Angel was listing between the early days of his relationship with Valentino and their current arrangement. He’d always thought of Angel’s partnership with Valentino as a sort of last resort move. Something he’d done when he was at rock bottom and had nowhere left to turn, a desperate bid to make money in which he’d gotten much more than he bargained for. But to think he had actually _wanted_ Valentino’s attention and affection at one point? To think they might have been in the same kind of genuine relationship that Alastor wanted?

This day was just full of uncomfortable realizations.

After several seconds of tense silence, Angel must have realized what was on his mind. “Hey, don’t think about all that too hard. Like you said, it ain’t where I am now. This is what matters tonight.” Even as he put himself in Alastor’s lap and combed two hands through his hair, all the Radio Demon could think was _But which do you prefer?_ “Al, c’mon. Look at me.”

He did, and Angel’s smile was a comfort. The spider leaned down to kiss him, weight resting fully against his legs, and that was pleasantly familiar too. Alastor lifted his head, deepened the kiss, slid his hands up Angel’s thighs to grasp his hips, eager to claim him and remind himself that this was where Angel wanted to be.

But was it? And even if so, who was to say when he would change his mind? Despite himself, Alastor couldn’t help recalling Peach’s words: _I feel sorry for you. You’re going to be disappointed when you find out he’s not capable of love._ Of course he didn’t believe that. No matter how much Angel professed to dislike romance, that didn’t mean it was beyond his capacity. Yet that brought up a much more disturbing concept that forced its way through Alastor’s mind and out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Did you love him?”

“Wh-what?” Angel asked, recoiling, wide-eyed, somewhere between shock and horror. Alastor felt much the same way, but there was no taking back what he’d said now.

“Valentino,” he continued quietly, hating himself for every syllable that passed his lips. “You intentionally won his affection. Became his favorite. Back then, when he treated you well and you genuinely wanted to be with him…did you love him?”

“I…” The spider opened his mouth, then closed it again, blinking helplessly, clearly at a loss for words. Alastor’s eyes quickly darted elsewhere as he realized that for once, he wasn’t able to keep smiling. He tried to force it, to shove all other emotions to the back of his mind and cover them with a toothy veneer of happiness as he was used to, but his willpower simply wasn’t strong enough. “I mean, that wasn’t really the point of what we were doin’.”

“That isn’t what I asked.” It was thoroughly unnerving to hear his own voice so flat and despondent, so devoid of cheer or energy.

Angel swallowed hard, fidgeting with the sheets or his curls or the hem of his blouse. “I dunno, Al, I never—hey.” He only managed a weak protest as Alastor carefully removed him from his lap to put him back on the bed.

If he couldn’t clearly and explicitly say ‘no,’ wasn’t that answer enough? Even if he resented Valentino and wanted to escape him at this point, it was still a fact that there had once been something genuine between them. But Angel couldn’t (or wouldn’t) allow himself to feel the same for Alastor? He knew very well that he had no right to be angry or feel betrayed or even to be hurt, really. Yet there he was, and he was feeling all of the above so strongly it was overwhelming.

As he got up and started for the door, Angel called after him, “Wait a minute, where ya goin’?”

“Elsewhere.” How on Earth was he supposed to explain everything going through his head at the moment? Not only because it felt impossible to express but because his go-to expression was to break whatever happened to be in front of him. He didn’t want that to be Angel.

Mercifully, he didn’t seem keen on arguing. “’Kay,” he answered simply, drawing his legs up to his chest to wrap his arms around them. “Guess we’ll talk when ya get back.”

Part of Alastor felt miserably guilty for leaving when Angel looked so forlorn—but better that than to take all this violent discomfort out on him when he didn’t deserve it. So he excused himself as gracefully as possible, barely managing to mumble out an apology as he left.


	9. Bad Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make up for the delay, I have two chapters for you this update! I'm honestly really happy with how they turned out, so I hope you guys enjoy them too. Prepare yourselves for some feels (some good ones this time, I promise!), and please let me know what you think in the comments~  
> CW for drug use/mention

In the hopes that it might help him recenter himself, Alastor did go out and spend his violent urges on the worthless population of Hell…but it did him no good. He didn’t feel any less angry or hurt. There was no sense of comfort or relief. Yes, maybe he was a little more in control of himself, but nothing had changed. Because this wasn’t the sort of problem he could brute force his way through. It wasn’t an issue that could be solved at the end of a blade or with a snap of his fingers.

Or was it? He did consider storming into that studio Valentino owned and permanently removing him from the picture so he would never again have to compare the two of them and their respective relationships with Angel. But that would probably end up being a more involved matter than his rash, anger-driven impulses were prepared to deal with. And if he went after Valentino, Vox was sure to get involved too, which was a whole other can of worms he wasn’t yet ready to open.

So he was back to square one, back to miserable, powerless jealousy, back to figuratively tearing his hair out looking for a way to move past this and convince himself that Angel’s affection should be enough for him even if it didn’t amount to love. And he continued to brood on it for days, capturing and mercilessly torturing whatever demon was unfortunate enough to cross his path while he thought.

What was he thinking, anyway, hoping Angel would love him? He was a demon—had been since long before his death—and demons didn’t know what to do with love. Angel had loved Valentino, and it was obvious how little good that had done either of them. Maybe it was safer not to broach that whole messy business. Maybe it was smarter to let their relationship be what it was and not hope for more than he deserved.

Really, that was his only viable option. He couldn’t change what had happened between Angel and his employer. All he could do was make an executive decision to no longer care about it. _Simple!_ After all, he’d been happy enough with what they had thus far, knowing full well that it was all artificial. Yes, he was completely fine with that and thinking about it at length didn’t bother him in the slightest.

If he just kept repeating that in his mind, he was sure to come to terms with it eventually. _This is fine, this is fine, this is fine. It’s enough that I have his attention. It’s enough to know I’m making him happy._

Shouldn’t that be enough?

…maybe he needed a little more time to himself before he was ready to go back to business as usual.

— — —

When finally he’d had enough of solitude and violence, when he’d composed himself and was ready to face what he’d been hiding from all this time, he headed back to the hotel. A little less than a week had passed since his abrupt departure, and he was sure Charlie and Venture would give him an earful for abandoning his ‘duties,’ but his main concern was getting back to Angel and mending _that_ unsteady bridge.

He got into his room sometime around nightfall, but Angel was nowhere to be found. Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised him. After all, he could hardly have expected Angel to wait right where he’d left him for days. A little investigation—which entailed speaking to a few of the hotel’s other inhabitants—revealed that Angel had last been seen heading to his own room on the top floor.

“Have you two not talked all this time?” Charlie asked, visibly concerned. “He didn’t look so good when he got in last night, and then he didn’t come down for our session this afternoon. I mean, I’m sure it’ll be fine now that you’re back! But I think he’s been worried about you.”

“I’ll check on him, dear, don’t worry,” Alastor told her, easing her concerns even as he told himself that seeing her distraught didn’t bother him. “I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just wanted some time alone to collect himself, that’s all.” Still, he hurried up to the seventh floor with a little more haste than strictly necessary. No matter how much he complained about them, it wasn’t like Angel to miss a session. Maybe Alastor had underestimated how much their disagreement affected him. Or worse, maybe he’d been selfishly protecting his own feelings despite _knowing_ that Angel needed him.

When he got up to room 723, he gave a rhythmic knock and called, “Mon ange? Can I come in? Well, I know I _can_ , but do I have your permission?”

It took a moment, but his beau’s voice finally came in weak response: “Al?”

“Is there someone else who might call you ‘ange’ that I don’t know of?” he laughed, realizing too late that considering their last conversation, that joke might not have been entirely appropriate. For that matter, calling Angel by any pet name at the moment might have been overstepping in itself. “Yes, cher, it’s me. May I come in so we can talk privately?”

Another pause that went on just a little too long. Angel’s answer was hard to make out, quiet and—if he wasn’t mistaken—choked with tears.

“I can’t hear you, Angel,” Alastor pointed out, leaning closer against the door, straining his ears for Angel’s voice. “I’m going to open the door so we can talk, all right?” When he tried, however, he found the door locked.

“You shouldn’t,” the spider called with more conviction. His voice sounded closer now, like he’d crossed the room to stand by the door himself; in fact, as Alastor listened, he felt pressure from the other side, like Angel’s slight weight was leaning against the red-lacquered wood. “You should…you should go. You’re not gonna wanna see me like this. Ugh, I didn’t mean to get…I didn’t mean… Fuck.”

“Mon cher ange…” He was sure to keep his smile in place, sure to keep his voice gentle despite the mounting panic Angel’s attitude was instilling in him. It seemed like Charlie’s assessment was right; he didn’t have to understand the full situation to know that Angel was _not_ doing well. Struggling to hold back the static starting to buzz around him, he went on, “You’re worrying me a bit—” An unmistakable sob came from Angel’s side of the door, so he hastily amended, “I just meant that I want to be sure you’re all right!”

It seemed as if Angel wasn’t really hearing him. “I’m sorry. Ya gave me all of two fuckin’ rules, _two_ things I wasn’t allowed to do, and I still managed to fuck it up.”

Alastor grew very still, his hands clenching so tightly that his claws bit into his palms, but he paid the welling blood no mind. Two things he’d told Angel not to do? There was only one main condition he’d set forth at the beginning of their arrangement, only one line he’d insisted the spider not cross. Had Angel been so upset in his absence that he’d sought comfort from another man? From Valentino, even? The thought made his stomach roil with abject horror. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask; even aside from what an insult the question would be if he was wrong, his mouth simply refused to form the words.

“Angel,” he began instead, “please let me in. Whatever’s going on, we can talk about it. If you’re upset, I don’t want to leave you alone again.” Another beat of hesitation. “Please?”

Without a word, Angel unlocked the door, and Alastor very carefully edged it open to avoid hitting him. The room inside was dark, but it didn’t keep Alastor from seeing his beau curled up in a tight ball on the floor just a few inches to the left of the door. He cringed at the light that came in from the hallway, so Alastor shut the door behind him and knelt to be at Angel’s level. The spider’s eyes were half-lidded and rimmed with dark shadows as if he’d been awake for 48 hours straight. When they fell on Alastor, they widened slightly, visibly shining with tears.

“It’s…really you?” he mumbled, reaching out, and Alastor caught his hand gently. It was trembling, just like the rest of Angel’s body, his skin clammy and chilled.

“Of course, mon cher.” He carefully gathered Angel into his arms, and it was as if a dam broke; all at once, his beau’s breath dissolved into helpless sobs and he clung to Alastor with all four arms, burying his face against the Radio Demon’s shoulder. Alastor held him without question, settling onto the floor with his beau in his lap and waiting for him to be ready to talk. This was all so much worse than he’d thought. He’d expected Angel to be miffed at him for being away so long without explaining himself, but this was something else entirely. After a minute or two of sitting together in relative silence, after he’d waited for Angel’s breathing to normalize, he asked quietly, “What happened?”

The spider flinched at the question, curling up tighter against him. “Don’t be mad, Daddy.” He pressed his lips to Alastor’s neck, causing him to go rigid and quickly draw away. As much as he’d missed it, now didn’t feel like the right time to enjoy that sort of affection.

“I’m not. But I need to know. What did you do while I was away?”

After a few seconds of hesitant silence, Angel pushed himself to his feet—then got lightheaded and nearly collapsed, forcing Alastor to get up and steady him. Still shaking like he was cold or afraid, the spider wandered over to his nightstand to retrieve something and bring it back to Alastor. It was a small plastic bag containing a few round, colorful tablets.

“What is this?” Determined not to frown again in Angel’s presence, he managed to keep his teeth bared in a semblance of a smile.

“PCP.” His beau sank down to sit on the edge of his disheveled pink bed, arms wrapped around himself in a vain attempt to stop his shivering. “I tried to wait, Daddy. I swear. But I didn’t know when you were comin’ back. For all I knew, I fucked up bad enough that you were gone for good. I felt like shit, couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t even… I needed to get outta my head for a while, and…that’s always helped before.” He gestured to the drugs in Alastor’s hand to indicate ‘that.’

So that explained why he was so out of it, so weak and exhausted. Alastor wasn’t familiar with the side effects of this particular drug (or many others, for that matter), but it seemed like a safe bet that Angel’s physical fatigue and mental disarray would be caused by controlled substances like this.

“When did this happen?”

“Just last night. Made today feel a helluva lot longer,” Angel explained, his voice once again cracking with tears as his fingers dug into his arms. “I thought…a couple times, I thought you were back, but it wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t. I knew you wouldn’t talk to me like that.” He pressed the heels of two hands against his eyes, obviously struggling to keep from breaking down and crying again.

Were these drugs the sort that caused hallucinations? Alastor had to wonder exactly what Angel had seen and heard to assume he would be angry and wouldn’t want to see him ‘like this.’ Taking a deep breath, he tried to decide how to proceed. Some part of him said he _should_ be upset—presumably because Angel had broken his no-drugs rule—but it felt much more important to make sure his beau was safe and comfortable before anything else.

“When did you last take one?” he asked, replacing the bag on the nightstand.

“Well.” Still avoiding his eyes, Angel explained quietly, “See, I kinda took a handful of ‘em last night. But it’s been a while since I had any, so it hit a lot harder than usual. I’m not high or anything anymore, just…kinda crashed by now.” That term definitely tracked with his defeated body language and attitude.

“Do you think a bath might help clear your head?” Alastor asked, taking his hands to gently pull him to his feet.

“Uh. Maybe?” He seemed confused as Alastor pulled him close again but didn’t move away, letting his hands rest on the Radio Demon’s shoulders.

“Then why don’t you come to my room and have one before bed? It’s getting late, after all, and you seem like you could use some rest.”

“Oh. Okay. Can you take me down your way, though? I don’t wanna risk runnin’ into any of the others lookin’ like this.”

“Just to be clear, you look as beautiful as always. But I understand. Hold on tight.” ‘His way’ downstairs entailed going through the shadows, slinking quickly through the darkened edges of the halls and down the staircase to the third floor to leave them alone together in his room. Angel seemed a bit dizzy once they arrived, but he allowed Alastor to lead him by hand to the bathroom nevertheless. He started a warm bath and returned to help Angel undress—but hesitated. Resting his hands on his beau’s hips to touch the hem of the tank top he was wearing, he asked, “May I?”

Angel nodded and lifted his arms so Alastor could help him out of his shirt. His breath hitched and he shivered as the Radio Demon’s fingertips slid just under the edge of sleep shorts and underwear, thumbs teasing his hipbones briefly before pushing both layers down at once. Alastor had to forcibly restrain himself from kissing his beau’s hips and working his way downward to hear him whimper and moan even more. _Now isn’t the time._

As usual, Angel insisted on taking off his stockings himself, still self-conscious about his feet despite the fact that Alastor had seen them before. He didn’t seem too bashful about his nudity otherwise, stepping into the bath and sinking carefully to sit in the warm water. As Alastor started to leave the room, he called, “Hang on!”

“I’m coming right back, cher,” Alastor told him quickly, shrugging out of his coat to set it aside and rolling up his sleeves on his way back to sit at the side of the tub. He unbuttoned his collar too, though that was mostly for his beau’s benefit. Angel visibly relaxed when he sat down. _My leaving before must have really affected him._ It was strange; Angel always seemed so independent, as if Alastor’s presence was enjoyable but certainly not vital. Even when he’d confessed to wanting more of the Radio Demon’s attention, he used that word: ‘want.’ At this moment, it seemed much more like a need, like he might easily slip back into nervous fear and depression if Alastor were away for too long. Seeing that he wasn’t making any efforts to bathe himself, Alastor cleared his throat and offered, “Would you like my help?”

Angel nodded, his expression somewhere between embarrassment and gratitude. So Alastor went about helping him wash his hair, slow and thorough, taking his time to enjoy the quiet intimacy that came with the action. After a minute or so of silence, Angel asked, “You’re really not mad?”

“No, mon ange. Of course I’m not happy to see you so out of sorts, but that rule was more for your sake than mine.”

“So that’s it? You’re not gonna punish me or anything?”

Alastor paused in his work, confused. “Is that what you wanted?” Was that what all of this was? A form of self-sabotage to push Alastor to discipline him?

“No, but that ain’t the point. It’s just what they do. It’s what you—” He started to run a hand through his hair, then paused as he realized it was still full of suds. With a frustrated sigh, he dropped his head back to rinse the shampoo out, leaving Alastor to wonder who ‘they’ meant in this scenario. Other men? Other ‘daddies’? It seemed like this was another moment where his inexperience was showing, but if doing what was expected of him here meant hurting or otherwise punishing Angel when he was obviously already suffering, he was fine with falling outside the norm.

When Angel sat up, allowing him to continue his work, he mused, “I _would_ prefer if you didn’t do this again. Taking as much as you did all at once, you could have seriously hurt yourself. And since you were alone, no one would have known what happened. So I’d like you to promise me you won’t put yourself in that position again.”

Angel nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay…?” Alastor prompted, rinsing his hands in the water and raising his eyebrows expectantly. The slightest smile curved his beau’s lips at the corners.

“Okay, _Daddy_ ,” he said, “I promise.”

“Thank you, ma sucrette.”

Angel took his time about finishing his bath, having recovered enough to soap up his body himself and using the act to put on a little show for Alastor, who found himself watching more closely than he meant to. He _had_ missed his beau over the few days he’d been gone, and especially after the scare Angel had given him earlier, he was looking forward to being safely in bed with him again.

“It’s prob’ly gonna take me a minute to dry off,” Angel pointed out, indicating his soaked hair and fur. “Why dontcha wait for me in bed, honey? I’ll be there soon.”

“Fair enough.” After stealing a quick kiss, Alastor left to get comfortable in bed, toing his shoes off before climbing into the covers to wait. Turning onto his side, he could easily look through the open bathroom door and see his beau carefully scrubbing his hair with a towel—until he realized Alastor was watching him and shut the door, his cheeks flushing. So the Radio Demon lay on his back and let his eyes fall closed, unable to stop thinking about how badly he wanted Angel back in his bed, in his arms. He shouldn’t have left in the first place, even after their last unpleasant conversation, but he intended to make up for it by giving Angel his undivided attention for the entirety of the next 24 hours. And maybe that was partially for his benefit too.

He couldn’t be sure of how long it took, but his beau finally joined him in bed, crawling under the covers in the dark to curl up at his side. “Feeling better?” Alastor asked, running his fingers through Angel’s hair and finding it still very slightly damp.

“Much,” Angel sighed as he sat up for a kiss. What Alastor expected to be a quick peck, however, quickly turned into something more insistent, and he wasn’t about to reject it. He wrapped his arms around his beau’s slim waist to pull him closer and kiss him deeper, Angel’s mouth still as familiar and delicious as ever. As his hand slid slowly down his beau’s side to his hip, he realized with a start that Angel was still naked. Not that it was altogether uncommon at this point, but he typically put on at least one layer before bed…unless he had something other than sleep in mind.


	10. Easy to Get Addicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the ending of the previous chapter wasn't clear enough: nsfw warning for this chapter!

“Angel,” the Radio Demon managed as he broke away, “I’m sure you must be tired, cher. Maybe you should give yourself some time to rest before—”

“Fuck that,” Angel panted, dragging him in for another passionate kiss. _Well then._ Still, it wasn’t as if Alastor didn’t want to be close to him too. So he dropped his already weak protests and let his hands slide down and around Angel’s backside to hold him closer. “Mh, didja miss me?”

Dropping his head to cover Angel’s neck with kisses and soft bites, Alastor answered honestly, “Of course I did.”

“Good.” Fingers threaded through red hair, already starting to get a little breathless, his beau purred, “Then whaddaya say you take me all the way tonight?”

Alastor tensed at the suggestion, his teeth clamping down a little harder than necessary on Angel’s soft skin. The idea came as a surprise simply because he himself hadn’t been thinking about it, but he was also surprised at how little it bothered him. He’d already been fully prepared to give Angel his hands, his mouth, whatever was necessary to please him. And he _did_ want them to be close; there were few ways to be closer than what Angel was suggesting.

“You’re sure?”

With an airy laugh, Angel reminded him, “I been sure for months. You know I’m not tryna push you. I just feel like…I dunno, like I really wanna know for sure I’m all yours tonight. I guess that sounds kinda dumb.”

“No, not at all.” In fact, he very much liked the way it sounded. “I want you to feel that at all times, mon ange. Now seems like a perfect time to start.”

“Wait, you really want to?” It almost seemed like Angel had expected him to reject the idea on principle.

“I do.” Another kiss, and Angel hummed sweetly against his lips, two arms wrapping around his shoulders while the other two slid down his chest toward his hips. He forced himself not to startle or withdraw when his beau’s hand moved between his legs. It wasn’t as if he’d never gotten aroused during their previous sessions. His attraction to Angel got stronger all the time, and he seemed to have a knack for figuring out what Alastor liked most; when he so willingly let Alastor’s fingers toy with his mouth or openly moaned out his encouragement while Alastor’s tongue was busy between his legs, the Radio Demon had little choice but to respond—even if he’d never acted on it before.

But in this case, Angel must have realized this was all a little sudden, so he might need more encouragement to get in the mood. “Hmm. Bet this’ll do somethin’ for ya.” He took Alastor’s hand from where it rested on his backside and slid it further down to press the Radio Demon’s fingers between his legs.

Alastor couldn’t help but shiver as he explored the slick heat with his fingertips. “Already, chéri?”

“Shut up,” Angel muttered. “I missed you, all right? And…maybe I been thinkin’ about it since you undressed me earlier.”

“I probably shouldn’t be surprised. You usually can’t go more than a week or so before you start getting desperate,” Alastor teased wickedly, relishing the deepening blush on his beau’s face. His fingers pressed lightly against Angel’s entrance, but he stopped himself long enough to ask, “Can I?” His voice had dropped a bit lower, rough with desire.

“Ya don’t hafta ask. Just take what ya want, Daddy.” Well, he didn’t need to be told twice. He forced two fingers inside Angel to tear a high-pitched whine from his lips, pressing their bodies closer and making it all too easy to bury his face against his beau’s chest. His fluff was missing a bit of its usual volume, but it was still as soft as ever and smelled of the passionfruit shampoo Angel used. This was familiar too, and it surprised Alastor how comfortable it made him.

Angel clung to his shoulders, every breath coming out as a pant or a moan while Alastor’s fingers moved inside him. The spider’s legs shifted, one of them nudging between Alastor’s legs and making him fully aware of how much more sensitive he was than usual. At the sound of his deep groan, Angel shivered and wet his lips. “‘S pretty cute how excited you get just from touchin’ me,” he cooed, leaning down for a brief kiss.

“Oh, I’m sorry; are you doing this purely for m—my…benefit?” The tone of his voice, meant to be cool self-assurance, came out a bit breathless and needy when Angel started to stroke steadily between his legs, heating him up and getting him harder with every moment. His hips twitched against the spider’s hand by instinct, only disarming him further with the idea that he wasn’t in complete control of his body at this point.

“Hey, I didn’t say that. Actually…” As he spoke, Angel was unbuckling Alastor’s belt and unfastening his pants to slide one hand down the front of them. He did it all slowly, whether to relish the anticipation or to let Alastor acclimate—but either way, it was harder to focus on listening. “I don’t even wanna admit how long I been wantin’ this. ‘Specially when you were gone. Got me thinkin’ about how much I like it when you’re here. I mean, right here.” He held Alastor’s head closer against his chest.

“Angel…” The Radio Demon couldn’t be sure whether his words were abandoning him from pleasure or shock at his beau’s sentimentality, but the effect was the same either way.

“Whatsamatter, Al?” His hand edged under Alastor’s boxers, fingertips tracing a straight line from their hem and down the full length of Alastor’s erection. “Ya got a little taste and now you’re all impatient?” Unable to respond otherwise to his teasing, Alastor pressed his fingers deeper still inside his beau to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Mm! I guess when ya want it, ya _really_ want it. Why dontcha lie back for me, honey?”

Trusting that Angel knew better how this should go, he did as he was asked, carefully pulling his fingers out—with a gasp from his beau—and lying on his back to shakily comb his bangs away from his eyes. The spider was sitting up on his knees in moments, kneeling over Alastor to toy with the top button of his shirt. “‘S it okay if I take this off?”

“Is it…necessary?” Despite the steady increase in his body temperature, the thought of stripping hadn’t crossed his mind, and he didn’t exactly relish it.

“Not if ya don’t want me to.” Angel trailed his hands from Alastor’s shoulders down his chest to grasp the edge of his pants and work them slowly downward. “I just wouldn’t want ya gettin’ too hot while we’re in the middle of things.” As he got Alastor’s slacks down enough to free his arousal, he wet his lips and muttered, “damn.”

The Radio Demon couldn’t begin to look anywhere near his beau, biting his own hand hard as Angel licked his palm and started to stroke him properly. His mind was going too many different directions at once, and it was all he could do to focus on his breathing. Unfortunately, he had little to no control over his voice, letting out soft groans and gasps as his beau treated him so nicely. When Angel started to use his mouth instead, Alastor bit down hard enough to make himself bleed and groaned in grateful pleasure. Angel’s tongue was even softer, even hotter than his hands; as many times as Alastor had felt it on his skin before, this felt completely different.

“Mon ange, I…you’re—mh, nom de dieu…” It was frustrating to be so turned around he couldn’t seem to form a full sentence, but how could he rightfully complain?

“That good, huh?” Angel giggled, stealing a glance up at him. Between slow licks and open-mouthed kisses, he went on, “Well you’re always so good to me, Daddy. I wanna make sure I’m returnin’ the favor.” And thoroughly too!

“Angel, please.” The spider looked up in question while Alastor’s manhood was halfway down his throat, and the Radio Demon had to quickly avert his eyes to avoid short-circuiting. “I’d rather have you close to me.”

Sitting up to wipe his mouth, Angel blushed slightly once again. “Kay. Guess I’m gettin’ a little impatient too.” He crawled forward to kneel over Alastor’s hips and leaned down for a kiss—then let out a squeal of shock when Alastor grabbed him tight to ravish his mouth, turning them over in the process so Angel was on his back. When they separated, he needed a moment to catch his breath, eyes half-lidded, his lower arms wrapped around Alastor’s waist while the others were sprawled against the bed. _Mon dieu, il est magnifique._ Alastor’s hips shifted, pressing down against Angel’s, and the spider shivered in expectation. He still sounded a bit breathless as he begged, “Give it to me, Daddy. Don’t make me wait any more.”

How could anyone refuse an invitation like that? Alastor certainly couldn’t. “With pleasure, ma sucrette.” Trying to will away his nerves, he carefully pressed against Angel’s entrance and, going slowly to avoid hurting him, slid inside to fully bury himself in soft, wet heat. For a few seconds, he lost his breath as well, pausing to try to gather his thoughts while his beau let out an airy sigh of contentment.

“That’s it, honey,” he managed, arms tight around Alastor’s back. “I want it…as deep as you can go. _Fuck_ , Alastor…” The sound of his name on the spider’s lips put another heated chill through him and made him eager to hear more, so he didn’t waste any more time about giving Angel what he’d clearly wanted for some time. He pulled his hips back and thrust in again, resting over his beau on one hand to enjoy the hazy, lust-drunk look on his face.

“You feel…incredible, mon ange, mon cher sucré,” he confessed, his free hand cupping Angel’s cheek to enjoy his softness and warmth however possible. The spider gave him a bashful smile and turned his head to take Alastor’s thumb in his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue and using it to muffle his steady gasps and moans. “Good boy.” He couldn’t be sure exactly where those words came from or why they felt so appropriate to this moment, but he was quickly learning that acting on impulse would probably do him more good than overanalyzing his every move, so he didn’t bother amending himself.

As Alastor figured out the motion and got used to it, Angel’s voice built up to high, breathy whines, his back arching off the bed as if to keep them as close as possible. “Fffuck,” he groaned, finally releasing Alastor’s thumb from his lips. “I-I…I toldja…you were a natural. Ooh God, honey, that’s so good!”

Alastor couldn’t have agreed more. He’d been unsure of what to expect going into this ( _er, no pun intended_ ), but every aspect of it was better than anything he could’ve dreamt up. Yes, the physical pleasure was amazing, almost overwhelmingly so, but it was even better to know he was connecting so strongly with Angel, to know every sweet sound out of his beau’s mouth was his doing, to know his love was fully satisfied with him and with their intimacy.

For a moment, his rhythm faltered as his heart tripped over itself. His… _Love?_ While he’d called Angel many things during their time together, this one was new. But that couldn’t be. Surely he was mistaking himself, getting carried away and thinking whatever he felt he should be during this moment. He tried to remind himself of his earlier logic on the subject: _I hardly recognize the word. I wouldn’t know how to identify it if I saw it._ Yet when he looked down at his bleary-eyed beau, somehow, he could see nothing else. How could this have—

“Al?” Concern had mixed with the dazed bliss on Angel’s face, forcing the Radio Demon to realize he’d paused a second too long. His beau’s shaking fingers threaded through his hair, his touch so gentle as to almost be painful. “Somethin’ wrong, honey?”

“…no, mon ange.” Leaning down to rest his forehead against Angel’s, he added with a sincere smile, “Everything is perfect.” He made a point of kissing Angel slowly but thoroughly, wanting to be sure his beau felt every ounce of passion wrapped up in the gesture. Judging by the way Angel’s arms tightened around him, he didn’t have any intention of letting go, so Alastor didn’t try to make him. Instead, he rested his body flush against his beau’s, pushing one of the spider’s long legs back to open him up further, and pressed his hips in closer to steal his breath.

Nothing mattered more to him at this moment than making sure Angel was happy. Every tired sigh he let out as Alastor worked back into his earlier rhythm was further encouragement; every moment of nails down Alastor’s back and hips twitching for more, a blessing. Eventually, he had to break away to gasp in a deep breath, but it immediately came out as another cry of Alastor’s name as he dropped his head back against the pillow behind him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Daddy, don’t stop,” he breathed. “God, you’re so fucking good!”

“That’s right, cher, tell me everything,” Alastor purred back, his lips pressed to Angel’s neck, tongue brushing soft skin with every word. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you. Anything you ask for, ma sucrette.”

“This is it, honey. This is all I want. Just don’t stop. Keep holdin’ me like this, and…and…” It sounded like he was getting a bit overwhelmed himself, so Alastor steadied him with another kiss. There wasn’t much room between them, but he managed to get his free hand into that space, pressing and rubbing Angel’s most sensitive spots to hear his breath hitch. Still, he didn’t try to escape; in fact, he held Alastor tighter still and moaned into his mouth to urge him on. Tearing his lips away to grab another breath, he whined desperately, “Please! I wanna cum for you, Daddy. I’m so close—I…”

Angel dug his claws harder into Alastor’s back, his other two hands grasping at the sheets, and let out a scream of pleasure as he came. Alastor, who had been so focused on pleasing his beau that he hadn’t paid much attention to the heat building up in his own core, was shocked by the feeling of Angel’s orgasm through his body, his muscles tightening and squeezing around Alastor’s arousal. Between the spider’s begging him not to stop and his own body’s instincts, he kept up his fevered thrusts until his pleasure overtook him and forced him into a kind of ecstasy he’d never experienced before. Unsure of how else to express it, he clamped his teeth down on his beau’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood as he growled out his satisfaction.

“Oh…” Angel whispered, still clinging to Alastor’s shirt—or what remained of it after all his clawing. “Al, you were… Goddamn.”

“I’ll assume that’s a good thing,” Alastor chuckled, taking another moment to enjoy their nearness before carefully pulling away to lie down next to his beau. After quickly adjusting his clothing, he pulled Angel into his arms, and he seemed perfectly happy to be held.

“For sure,” he mumbled, running his fingers lightly down Alastor’s chest over and over while his lower arms stayed firmly wrapped around the Radio Demon’s waist. “It wasn’t too bad for you, was it?”

“Angel, I told you I wanted to do this.” He tilted Angel’s chin up so their eyes could meet. “And I meant it. I promise you, there was _nothing_ bad about that.”

“Just wanted to make sure.” The spider smiled in either contentment or self-satisfaction, resting his head on his folded hands so he could continue gazing admiringly up at Alastor. The Radio Demon’s chest tightened, and once again he spoke without meaning to.

“I’m sorry for leaving you before. It was…childish. And selfish. If I’d known how upset you were—”

“Well, I didn’t tell ya,” Angel pointed out. “I mean, I coulda tried to stop you, so it wasn’t totally your fault. Anyway, I fucked up after ya left, so I’d say we’re square.”

“I just want you to know I’m not going to walk away again if I see you in pain.”

Angel’s expression softened, and he observed Alastor in silence for a moment before sitting up for one more gentle, lingering kiss. He didn’t speak again until he’d settled against Alastor’s chest, and when he did, his voice was quiet, as if he were talking to himself. “Why d’you hafta make this so hard?”

Unsure of how to answer, Alastor simply remained where he was, combing his fingers through his love’s now-dry hair and listening to his breathing slow and deepen. It wasn’t until he was sure that Angel was asleep that he finally turned his attention back to that word.

Love.

He felt sure it wasn’t the sex itself that had induced that surprising revelation. No, it just came from being close to Angel and allowing his thoughts to roam freely. They’d been apart for several days and, as Angel himself had said, that had forced him to realize how much he disliked the separation. Alastor had never felt anything like this before. Not for anyone. This desperate need to see Angel safe and happy. This utter misery at the prospect of losing him. This white-hot fury at the thought of him being threatened. It was all brand new and all wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

And yes, Angel probably deserved better than the uncertain, inexperienced love of a maladapted killer like him, but the feeling was absolute. Unless his beau explicitly requested otherwise, Alastor would be there offering his affection and attention whenever Angel wanted them, offering whatever it would take to see him fulfilled. What other choice did he have? It was much too late to stop this feeling developing, and as much as it scared him to be beholden to anyone in this way, the thought of leaving was immeasurably worse.

So there he was. And there he would stay. For as long as he could, as long as Angel would have him. If someday his feelings were returned, of course he would be ecstatic—but even if not, it wouldn’t change how he felt. After all, he’d come this far expecting nothing in return. Knowing that Angel needed some part of him was enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I advise you to [check out my Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme/) for 1) all the latest updates on my work and 2) polls and such when I need help deciding things. 💖


	11. Whatever Suits Your Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone, but chapter 12 is already coming along, so you shouldn't have to wait too much longer for it. Thank you all so much for your patience and also for 10k hits! Your interest and support really mean a lot to me. 💖

As expected, both Charlie and Venture had plenty of words for Alastor the following day after he’d missed so much work, yet he couldn’t say their grousing bothered him. He was in too good a mood to be brought down by something so trivial. So he accepted their complaints and assured them he would make up for his absence. Venn clearly took that promise to heart, as she kept him busy for a full twelve hours before finally conceding to forgive his disappearance—after which he was free to spend his evening with Angel. Not a bad trade-off, the way he saw it.

For some time thereafter, things went smoothly for Alastor both personally and professionally. It seemed their separation had made Angel even more grateful for his presence, so much that the spider requested attention much more often than money or gifts. Seeing his beau so happy meant Alastor was generally happy too, which made his job much easier to tackle, which meant the hotel was more successful, which meant its other operators were also in better spirits.

In fact, maybe four months after Alastor had begun his relationship with Angel, the hotel had so many new patrons that they were beginning to run out of unoccupied rooms. Charlie was overjoyed with all the “potential for change” their clientele symbolized, but she neglected to address the glaring issue that they still had no proof of concept. That is, they had yet to successfully ‘rehabilitate’ a single demon. Not surprising, but also not great for their credibility.

“I’m sure no one expects it to happen overnight,” she insisted. “I mean, rehabilitation on Earth can take years, and it’s obviously a lot harder down here. I’ve been seeing so much progress from so many of our patrons. They just need a little more time.” She was determined not to acknowledge that there might be any issue with their ‘business’ model—and, strangely enough, Venture continued to encourage it.

“As fair as that logic might be, habibti, it doesn’t present a solution to our overcrowding problem,” she pointed out, drumming her fingernails along the mahogany tabletop, her features creased as she considered the situation. She, Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor were gathered in the first floor meeting room, wherein group therapy sessions were most often held. They were all seated around the head of a long, dark-stained conference table (provided by the Quintessential Businesswoman herself) to discuss their best options for how to address this issue.

“There are only so many ways to go about it,” Alastor pointed out, idly leaning back in his seat. “We need either fewer existing patrons or more usable space; it’s that simple.”

“We can’t just start kicking people out!” Charlie argued immediately, looking horrified by the idea. “What kind of message would that be giving them? It’s not like any one guest’s redemption is more important than another’s.”

“I didn’t say all that, dear.” Waving a hand to calm her down, Alastor continued, “But since renovating the hotel to add more rooms isn’t a practical option, the only remaining choice is to start a waiting list for those we can’t house yet. Once we have vacancies again, we can bring them in.”

“But…” Vaggie bit her lip, stealing a glance at her partner as if reluctant to say anything that might contradict her unwarranted idealism. Luckily, she was too pragmatic to let that keep her from speaking. “Realistically, who knows how long that could take? Demons who are interested now might give up after a few months of waiting to hear back from us—or they might not even live that long.”

“Which would allow someone more committed the opportunity to take their place,” the Radio Demon agreed pleasantly, well aware that all three ladies at the table were giving him distinctly displeased looks but refusing to let them discourage him. “My point is just that there’s no miracle solution—if you will—for this problem. I think a compromise is our best option.”

There was silence for a few moments as they all mulled over the problem, and Alastor let his mind wander, as if often did, to his beau. Could he be blamed for that? Angel was a much more interesting subject than the few dozen other demons that called the hotel home for the moment and whatever fates might befall them. The spider had gone out that morning with that loudmouthed, volatile friend of his, Cherri, and he was now in the process of redecorating Alastor’s room with the many trimmings he’d brought back. Surprisingly domestic, surprisingly prosaic, but Alastor couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the idea of their ‘picking out curtains’ together…even if Angel was the one doing all the actual picking.

The silence in the conference room was broken by the chime of a mobile phone, and Venture winced as she retrieved the device from somewhere up her sleeve and glanced at its screen. “I’m afraid I have to take this. We’ll continue this conversation later, yes?”

“Sure,” Charlie agreed as Venn got up. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course, dear. Nothing for you to worry yourself over.” She gave Charlie’s head a brief pat as she strode from the room, and the princess allowed herself to smile bashfully. In their time working together, it seemed she had latched onto Venture as the professional mentor and all-around role model Charlie had thus far lacked in her life, so praise of any sort often had a similar effect.

“Well, if we’re done for the moment,” Alastor said, pushing to his feet as well, “I’ll keep brainstorming on my own and see if I can’t come up with some other course of action in the meantime.”

“That would be great,” Charlie agreed, the genuine trust and gratitude on her face almost physically painful. “Thanks.”

“Always happy to help,” the Radio Demon agreed, making his way out of the room and over to the bar as quickly as possible while still seeming nonchalant. Sometimes being around the boundless wellspring of sincere goodwill that was his co-manager got exhausting for a person so very accustomed to keeping everyone around him at arm’s length. _And speaking of people who go far out of their way to chase off any semblance of friendship or affection…!_ “Husker, could I have my usual, please?”

The barcat grunted in response and poured him a glass of chilled tonic water while Charlie and Vaggie left for their room upstairs. Alastor didn’t wait for him to ask what the meeting had been about, happy to recap it unprompted. Talking Husker’s ear off had become a part of his problem-solving process, so despite his friend’s obvious disinterest, he explained the issue nevertheless.

“It’s always a possibility that the less interesting ones could just start mysteriously disappearing,” he mused as he wrapped up his summary of the problem and started thinking up potential solutions. “Charlie probably wouldn’t even notice, in fact. Some of them kind of blend into the woodwork, you know?”

“She’d notice,” Husk said with a shake of his head. “If you think she’s not totally invested in every single one of ‘em, you’re not payin’ attention.”

Well, it was difficult to sometimes. All that idealistic talk of redemption and all the good that hid very very deeply inside every sinner became monotonous after a while, so he’d learned to tune it out when he got bored. “It wouldn’t be too difficult to antagonize them into leaving by choice, then. That way she gets her explanation as to where they went—”

“And it’s still your fault.”

Alastor scrunched up his face in frustration and threw out that idea just like the last. _Killjoy._ “What do _you_ suggest, then?”

“Hey, don’t look at me; I just run the bar,” his friend reminded him.

“Well, it must be nice not to have anyone pressing you for more involvement. Given Venture’s history— _hiss_ -tory, see what I did there?—maybe I shouldn’t be surprised she’s such a taskmaster, but I really think she enjoys coercing me into playing along with this nonsense as if it were a serious endeavor.”

“Hm.”

“I’m surprised she’s still bothering with it herself, honestly. Surely there are more interesting projects she could be working on.” But then, he himself was there because he still found the concept of the hotel interesting, so maybe that logic was faulty.

“Uh-huh.”

“This isn’t the worst problem we could have, of course,” he went on, calling Shadow to retrieve the hotel’s booking records from the office so he could look through them. “But if it keeps up, we might just need to do some physical expansion. A second location already! Do you think Lucifer would be kind enough to lend us another property?”

“Yeah, sure.” Well, that didn’t sound terribly sincere. When Alastor looked up to question whether Husk was actually listening or not, he found that his friend’s eyes were directed firmly away from him. Instead, he was leaning idly against the bar, a bottle still curled in his fist, while he gazed across the lobby.

Still engaged in her phone call, Venture was pacing the width of the room near the door, her coat sweeping the floor with each gliding step; somehow, despite those ridiculous pointe heels she wore, her posture remained impeccable, every step as smooth as the last. _Show off._ She paused, shifting her weight to one hip, combing her bangs away from her face with a frustrated sigh—and Husker’s gaze softened as it wandered down her figure.

Alastor couldn’t keep a smug grin from spreading across his face as he finally put the pieces together. What an interesting development! Certainly an unexpected one, considering how disparate their personalities were, but potentially entertaining nevertheless. Only by clearing his throat pointedly did Alastor finally get his friend’s attention, and Husk blanched at the knowing look on his face. “See something you like?” he asked innocently.

“I dunno what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” the barcat grumbled, now stubbornly staring straight down at the bar.

“Oh, don’t be that way, my friend. I’m sure it’s perfectly natural to take some sort of…interest in a person like Venture.” Honestly, he had no idea whether it was or not. The criteria for general attractiveness had always eluded him, so he had no way of knowing whether or not Venture met them. The best he could do was give her credit for the attributes she shared with Angel—her height, her slender figure, the general grace of her movements—but that was still more an objective analysis than personal admiration.

“Will you keep your fuckin’ voice down?” his friend hissed, scrubbing his face with one hand.

“Why? Do you not want her to know?” Despite the temptation to do otherwise, Alastor did lower his voice a bit to avoid being overheard. After all, he knew exactly how it felt to be interested in someone but absolutely revile the idea of expressing it out loud. “You’ll have much better luck getting an answer if you mention it to her.”

“No point. Ya think someone like her’s gonna give two shits about a schmuck like me?”

“Well…why shouldn’t she?”

“Quit playin’ dumb.”

“I’m completely serious. If you’re saying the fact that she’s an Overlord puts her ‘out of your league’—”

“There’s more to it than that,” Husk insisted. “It ain’t just about her bein’ an Overlord; it’s the _kind_ of Overlord she is. Look at her. She’s got this whole high-class image, all sophisticated and shit…and I’m the kinda fuckin’ guy that says ‘sophisticated and shit.’” He let out a groan and gripped his bottle tighter, claws scratching the surface of the glass.

After a moment of consideration, Alastor began, “I’m sure it’s none of my business—”

“Nope.”

“—but the fact of the matter is you won’t know for sure unless you ask her. I’ve known Venture for some time, and I can tell you that the image of her you see is not entirely indicative of who she is.”

This, he was realizing, was really not his place to say. For one, he was the absolute last person in the entirety of Hell who should be giving romantic advice. For another, both of his friends were adults who could and should manage their own emotions without his interference. It certainly wasn’t his right to expose Venture’s deliberate (and very understandable) choice to keep her thoughts and feelings concealed behind a serene, aloof veneer of impassivity.

Still, if not for Charlie’s prodding and encouraging him to be honest with himself about his feelings toward Angel, Alastor might never have made the choice to take action and might still be standing by miserably while the object of his affections was being consistently mistreated by other clients. As much as he disliked the idea that she might be rubbing off on him, he was forced to begrudgingly concede that in this instance, he was grateful for her nosiness. Why not pay it forward now that he had an opportunity?

“Just don’t count yourself out before you have reason to,” he concluded with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “She _does_ willfully spend an awful lot of time here at the bar. For all you know, she might have something similar in mind and is just waiting for you to make a move.”

Husk frowned, but he at least didn’t look quite so certain of his hopelessness. “Ya think?” he muttered. “She seems like the kinda gal that goes after somethin’ if she wants it.”

“Oh, and she absolutely is. But she’s also conscientious enough to realize when her feelings about a situation aren’t the only ones that matter. Maybe _she_ isn’t sure of your interest in _her_. Maybe you’ve been hiding it a little too well.”

The cat blinked, his expression shifting from doubt to shock to dismay. “Fuck me,” he grumbled, slapping his palm into his forehead. “I mean, I figured… Y’know, that whole week you were gone, she was hangin’ around the bar all day. I figured she was just bored, but…fuck, now I don’t know.”

As Venture ended her phone call with a resigned huff and started toward the stairs, Alastor answered quietly, “There’s one very simple way to find out!”

Husk steeled himself with another healthy swig from his bottle, then called to her as she passed, “Hey, Venn? You got a minute?”

“Not just now, ya albi,” she answered without slowing in her purposeful gait, raising one finger at him as if to say _hold that thought_. “Wait right there and I’ll be back soon.” And she disappeared up the stairs to whatever mysterious business so urgently required her attention.

“Great, that sounds real promising.” Since he’d finished his latest drink, Husk discarded the empty bottle and dug another one out of a cooler under the bar.

“I wonder what that phrase means,” Alastor mused, watching his friend pop the cap off his next drink.

“Huh?”

“That term she’s always calling you. I don’t think I’ve heard her use it for anyone else.” He had no familiarity with Arabic but had concluded that habiibii/habibti was an endearment akin to the many others she used, a term of platonic affection, maybe the sort one might call a child—as she used it for both Angel and Charlie. But ‘ya albi’ was a different one, one Alastor couldn’t guess the meaning of based on how she used it.

“Who fuckin’ knows? Prob’ly just means ‘cat’ or somethin’.”

After that point, Husk didn’t respond much to Alastor’s prompts, lost in thought or general pessimism about his prospects with Venture. Well, if he _wanted_ to mope, that was his choice. Realizing it was getting late and wondering why Angel hadn’t yet come down to retrieve him, Alastor left his friend with another “good luck” for his romantic endeavors and headed up to his own room.

Before he could open the door, however, he caught two familiar voices from inside and wasn’t sure he should interrupt their conversation. “I can’t keep stalling him forever, Angel,” Venture was saying, her tone uncharacteristically tense. “The longer you put this off, the more impatient he’s going to get. You need to take action while the decision is still yours to make.”

“Dontcha think I know that?” Angel’s voice was audibly distressed as well. “But what am I supposed to do? Just go back to the studio like nothin’ happened? Go back to gettin’ fucked by ten different guys in a week while Val films it all?”

“Whatever you do, it has to be something more than continuing to pretend your contract with Valentino doesn’t exist.”

Alastor could feel his body tense but could make no effort to stop it. Yes, he knew that Angel had once had a contract—a professional contract, that is—with Valentino, but he’d also thought it was terminated along with their working relationship. But then, he’d never gotten a full explanation of the situation, despite Angel’s assurance that he would. It was very possible he’d misunderstood.

“ _Tell Alastor_ what’s going on,” Venture insisted. “Explain it to him and I’m sure he’ll want to help. You know he cares for you. He’ll want to make sure you’re safe.”

_Oh? What ever happened to ‘you’ll get bored of this eventually’?_

“I dunno,” the spider answered noncommittally. “He ain’t gonna like hearin’ it.”

“But I’m sure he’ll understand nevertheless.”

“You didn’t see him before, Venn.” Something like fear had snuck into Angel’s tone, fear edging into panic. “Last time we talked about Val, he got so…I mean, he didn’t say it, but I could see it hurt him. Bad. I don’t wanna do that to him again.”

Alastor’s chest constricted with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, some mix of embarrassment and gratification at the idea of Angel wanting to protect his feelings.

“I’m sure he would be happy to take on a bit of emotional discomfort himself if it meant sparing you physical danger in the future,” Venture reasoned.

“He already showed me what happens when I talk about this!” Angel snapped, the rush of pain and anger in his voice enough to make Alastor flinch. “He left me alone without a single word for a week, and I _obviously_ couldn’t handle it. Y’think I don’t know what that means? He didn’t do it the way they usually do, but…I learned my lesson.”

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Venture said gently, “I’m sure you know his absence wasn’t intended as a punishment for you.”

The very idea made Alastor sick with guilt.

“Yeah, well, if it works, it works. This whole fuckin’ mess with Val is my fault. I’m gonna hafta be the one to deal with it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with asking help of the people who care about you. Whatever you choose to do, please don’t put yourself in danger just to avoid an unpleasant conversation with Alastor. I’m sure it will be much easier than the one Valentino wants to have.”

As the sound of Venture’s heels started to approach the door, Alastor panicked and disappeared into the shadows along the wall to hide. His friend exited the room and shut the door behind her, looking weary. Standing still in the hall and looking straight ahead, she said quietly, “I’m sure he’ll listen to you more than me. Please don’t let him face this on his own; there’s a reason he hasn’t ended it himself already.” Taking a deep breath, she drew her shoulders back and continued toward the stairs, presumably to ask Husk what he wanted earlier.

Alastor slowly took a step out of the shadows once she was gone and stood by for a minute or two trying to decide how to bring this up without making his eavesdropping obvious. The ideal situation was for Angel to confess of his own volition—but if he didn’t, Alastor would have no choice but to press him. If he genuinely was in danger, if Valentino was a threat to him, Alastor would not stand by while he tried to deal with a hostile Overlord alone.


	12. Harmful Additives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are ready for some ~exposition~. I can tell you Alastor was not. :)

When Alastor stepped inside the room, his beau was leaned heavily against the far wall, chewing his lower lip, his brow furrowed in worry or distress. All that disappeared from his face in a split-second, however, when he saw Alastor. _Is that because he’s happy to see me or because he doesn’t want me to know something’s wrong?_

“Hey,” Angel said with a tentative smile. “Uh. Did Venn send you up?”

“I’m a grown man; I don’t need to be _sent_ to my own room,” Alastor chuckled. “I just want to spend the rest of my evening with you. Is that okay?”

“Course it is!” the spider answered cheerfully, crossing the room to kiss Alastor’s cheek, then gesturing around them to the new décor. “So? Whaddaya think? I tried not to go too crazy since, y’know, you live here too, but I think it’s a lot more comfortable this way.”

Despite having made the space much softer than Alastor would’ve done himself, he had kept its red and black color scheme and soft lighting. There was a new bedspread and silk sheets, fluffy pillows taking up exactly one half of the headboard, the usual blackout drapes on the window now accented with a sheer layer of red chiffon. Alastor’s desk and chair were untouched, other than the addition of a tri-fold vanity mirror—but even that was framed in dark wood so it looked as if it belonged. Overall, it was a nice blending of their individual styles.

“I approve,” he said, taking Angel’s hands to draw him in close for a proper kiss. Although his beau was eager to reciprocate, there was still a certain amount of tension in his body as Alastor’s arms wrapped around him. Before he could comment on it, however, he felt a tug at the leg of his pants and glanced down to find Angel’s pet pig biting their hem.

“Oh. Uh, there’s that too,” Angel said with a tentative smile, leaning down the scoop the pig up into his arms. Tapping its snout reproachfully, he scolded, “I toldja to keep hidden ‘til I could butter him up some, Nuggs.”

“You could’ve at least mentioned it to me first.” The Radio Demon wasn’t bothered by the pig’s presence itself, as animals—most animals—had never really given him trouble. The part that bothered him was the fact that Angel was currently holding the creature with all four hands, cuddling and cooing at it, and as ridiculous as it was, Alastor couldn’t help the jealousy welling up in him.

“Aw, c’mon, Daddy,” Angel whined, holding the pig up next to his face so they could both pout at Alastor. “I been keepin’ him cooped up in my room all this time, makin’ him sleep by hisself, and it ain’t fair to him. Not his fault I got another man around these days.”

_Another? Meaning the pig counts as the first?_ “And you think he’ll be happier in here? Where it’s darker and unfamiliar and he has to share space with both of us?”

“He’ll be happier because he’ll be with me more often,” the spider said matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t like havin’ to split my time between the two of you. We’re a package deal, Al. Take it or leave it.” He stuck his tongue out, already knowing well that Alastor wasn’t going to kick him out on these grounds. Still, just to repay his brattiness, the Radio Demon reached up to grasp Angel’s cheeks and dragged him down for a kiss, paying especial attention to toying with his exposed tongue.

When he drew away, he chucked Angel under his chin and told him pleasantly, “You should know better than to show me that tongue and expect me not to remind you who it belongs to.” Satisfied with the intense blush on his beau’s face, he went about the process of getting ready for bed, shrugging out of his coat and vest to put them away. “How was your day out, by the way? I was already in a meeting by the time you got back.”

“Huh?” Having been watching Alastor undress, the spider quickly blinked his eyes clear and carried his pet over to sit on the bed, trying to focus on the conversation. “It was good. Cherri’s been real busy with gang shit lately, so it was nice havin’ a minute to catch up. She, uh, wants to meet you sometime.”

“Oh really? I’m sure that would be an interesting outing.”

“Who says we hafta go out? We could do it right here.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow as he came over to join his beau in bed. “I don’t think it would be appropriate to entertain guests in our bedroom, cher. Besides, you usually jump at the chance to go out and stretch your legs.”

“I guess. I’m just not really feelin’ it right now,” the spider mumbled noncommittally, watching Fat Nuggets curl up to sleep in his lap. The downturn in his mood forced Alastor to remember his concerns, but what could he say that would lead into that subject naturally? How could he encourage Angel to be honest with him without explicitly asking for it?

“Ahem. I passed Venn in the hall. Were you two talking? She ran out on our meeting for a phone call and then came straight up here, so I’m curious as to what had her so rattled.” Though he tried to keep his tone light, he could see Angel starting to withdraw already, visibly nervous about where this conversation was going. Some part of Alastor said he should let it go, that Angel had every right to keep things to himself if he so chose, that he shouldn’t be prying if it meant making his beau uncomfortable—but then, wasn’t that faulty logic the reason Angel didn’t want to be honest with him in the first place? “…did you two have some sort of disagreement?”

Angel must have heard the slight edge to his voice, as he quickly shook his head. “No, it ain’t like that.” He spent a few long seconds absently stroking the pig that rested in his lap. If its presence was a comfort to him, then Alastor regretted arguing against it. “I was hopin’ to wait and talk to you about it once I had some kinda solution in mind, but…I guess we might as well get into it now. Can you promise ya won’t get mad?” He stole a wary glance in Alastor’s direction.

“I’m sure I won’t, cher.” Taking one of Angel’s free hands to try to console him, the Radio Demon insisted, “If something’s wrong, I want to help.”

Angel nodded, but his gaze stayed firmly fixed on Fat Nuggets. “Okay. So. Uh, fuck, I don’t even know where to start. Uh, ya know I was workin’ with Venn for a couple months before I started doin’ this thing with you.” It was still a bit discouraging that he refused to ever use the word ‘relationship.’ It was always ‘this thing’ or simply ‘this’ accompanied by an ambiguous gesture.

“Yes, I’m aware. She was managing your schedule and finding work for you.” A fact Alastor only marginally resented her for at this point. “She told me she took the position as a favor to you.”

“That’s puttin’ it real lightly. You prob’ly don’t know exactly how things worked between me and Val, so…I guess if you’re gonna understand any of this, I gotta tell ya.” The look on his face and the reluctance in his voice said he would prefer just about any other subject to this one.

Rather than the ‘you don’t have to if you’d rather not’ that immediately came to mind, Alastor instead replied, “Take your time if you need to.” If he was serious about being with Angel and caring for his wellbeing (which he absolutely was), it was about time he put his own discomfort aside and learned all there was to know about his beau’s former employer.

“It ain’t really a long story. Just kinda hard to say out loud. So, my first few years down here were…rough. Doesn’t really matter how it happened, but I wound up workin’ for Val. I didn’t have to. Nobody forced me into it. I wanted to.” Angel’s voice had grown flat and detached, his eyes starting to fall out of focus. When Alastor squeezed his hand lightly, he didn’t respond. “’S like I toldja before. Lotta regrets. Once I proved I was worth somethin’ to him and he decided to keep me, that’s when we made our deal.”

A static buzz coursed through the air, a garbled, confused noise like the sort that came with signal interference. “What sort of deal?” Alastor asked, hoping his words were still intelligible despite the crackling in his voice.

“Prob’ly the kind you’re thinkin’ of. A contract, Al.” Angel’s eyes were cool and distant as they finally met Alastor’s. “I hear you’re pretty familiar with those.”

Although he felt as if he was going to vibrate out of his skin, the Radio Demon’s body remained very still where he sat. He blinked once. Then again. Still, his mind had trouble processing what he was hearing. Of course, he should’ve known this already. Demons didn’t use the word ‘contract’ frivolously, even in business terms. It had a very specific connotation in Hell, and Angel was right: he’d made a fair few of them himself. Enough to know they typically involved a service in exchange for a soul. Enough to surmise that this meant Angel’s connection to Valentino was far stronger than he’d thought. How was it he’d fooled himself into thinking otherwise?

“I’ve never—” He paused, trying hard to calm his heart and the static that came with its panicking. “I’ve never seen a mark anywhere on your body.” Every contract involved one, as he understood it. _But then, I’ve been wrong about a lot of things today._ He tried to brush that bitterness away and remind himself that this was not something he should hold against Angel.

_He could have told me sooner._

Well, he had no counterargument for that point. How many times had Angel told him, _I’m all yours, Daddy_? How often had he begged to be marked, to be claimed, to let everyone around them know exactly what their relationship was? Maybe it was Alastor’s own fault for having convinced himself it was something else.

“Yeah, I don’t really like showin’ it off these days.” While his lower hands remained fixed on Fat Nuggets as a sort of anchor, Angel reached up to his throat with the others. When he touched the black stripe there—which Alastor had always assumed to be another natural marking like the rest of his stripes—it came away like a ribbon but with no visible clasp. Some sort of demonic magic, then. Its removal revealed a stark black shape against Angel’s pale skin, a brand that Alastor instantly recognized as a sort of stylized V. Angel didn’t offer any further explanation, simply watching Alastor in silence and awaiting his reaction. But how on Earth was he supposed to react?

Part of him was fighting nausea over the knowledge of how many times he had kissed that exact spot on Angel’s neck. Part of him was furious over the fact that Angel had never thought this was information he deserved to hear. Part of him wanted to brush it aside and continue as if he’d never heard it. A very large part of him wanted to leave for Valentino’s studio right away and put an end to his meddling once and for all.

But that wasn’t an option. Unfortunately, demonkind took their contracts very seriously, because their king took them very seriously. For whatever reason, Lucifer viewed any covenant made between a demon and a mortal (or even two demons) as sacrosanct, to the point that he violently punished anyone who tried to disrupt such an agreement. Which effectively meant that Alastor had absolutely no power over this situation, Overlord or not; the bond would only be broken if Valentino chose to end it or somehow failed to uphold its terms.

“Al?” Angel’s voice was very soft, unsure, as if he were afraid to speak. When Alastor looked up from the mark on his throat, he found the spider watching him with shining eyes. “Can you…say somethin’? I can’t tell what you’re thinkin’.”

“I’m still trying to decide what I’m thinking,” Alastor confessed at length, keeping his eyes on his beau and trying to temper his frustrations with his love for Angel. What he wanted more than anything, and what he felt his beau must also want, was for them to be closer, for his skin to meet Angel’s as a silent source of comfort for both of them. Either out of selfishness or because he hoped it would help his beau as well, Alastor asked, “May I hold you, cher?”

To his surprise (and relief), Angel nodded firmly without a moment’s hesitation, quickly replacing the ribbon on his neck to hide the seal. When Alastor reached for him, he went along with it without question, allowing the Radio Demon to pull him close and resting comfortably in his lap. Fat Nuggets remained where he lay against Angel’s thighs, unperturbed by the movement.

“You’re not mad?” the spider asked quietly as he leaned against Alastor’s shoulder.

“No, mon ange.” That wasn’t entirely true, but his anger was not what Angel needed at the moment. What was important now was that he make sure he had _all_ the information there was on this subject. “What are the terms of your contract? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“’S fine.” Angel shrugged. “Val said he’d take care of me: make sure I had work, make me famous, keep me safe from other demons.”

“But he hasn’t. I’ve seen you come back from work with injuries several times.”

The spider gave a dry, rueful smile. “Yeah, but it’s minor shit, nothin’ life-threatening, and like you said, it happened while I was workin’. That means I was doin’ it for him, and because of this…” He touched his throat, where Alastor now knew his contact seal to be.

“You belong to him,” Alastor finished for him, and he curled in tighter on himself.

“Yeah. Body, soul…everything. If he tells me to do it, it doesn’t count.”

Alastor couldn’t help but remember that glib remark he’d made earlier about whom Angel’s tongue ‘belonged to.’ The irony was almost enough to force him to laugh, but humor wasn’t coming easily at the moment. “If that’s the case, if he’s so possessive of you, how did you end up working with Venture instead?”

“Well, I can tell ya Val was never jazzed about it in the first place. After word got out I was stayin’ here at the hotel, he got all pissy and wanted me back at the studio so he could keep an eye on me.” Angel’s shoulders trembled from how tightly he was holding himself, his anxiety impossible to miss. “Workin’ with him was bad enough. I couldn’t go back to livin’ with him too. So I asked Venn to help me out.”

“How did you two know each other?” Without making any conscious effort to do so, maybe just as a conditioned reaction to seeing his beau so uncomfortable, Alastor found himself stroking his fingertips slowly up and down Angel’s spine.

“She works with Val sometimes. I mean, she works with pretty much everyone who does business down here, right? And Val does a helluva lotta business.” Angel seemed content to rest against him, toying with Alastor’s sleeve as he spoke. “She managed some of the others already, see. ‘Problem children,’ the ones with attitude he don’t like dealin’ with himself. He makes it out like this big shameful thing, like ‘Daddy doesn’t wanna bother with you anymore,’ so ya get passed off to Venn, but—ow.”

It wasn’t until Angel paused and squirmed in his arms that Alastor realized his grip on the spider’s leg had tightened considerably, claws digging into his thigh hard enough to draw blood. But he didn’t have to wonder what had caused that reaction. It was a ridiculous sentiment, and trying to express it aloud would’ve been humiliating, but damn it, something about hearing Angel refer to another man by the same title Alastor had come to own genuinely bothered him.

“I’m sorry, mon ange.” He passed his hand over the puncture wounds on Angel’s leg to heal them, then licked the spider’s blood from his fingertips. “Go on.”

“Uh. Right.” Angel wet his lips at the sight of Alastor’s tongue cleaning his fingers, but he quickly turned his eyes down toward his lap to focus. “Point is, it was somethin’ she was doin’ already. So I asked if she could do the same thing for me—asked _her_ , I mean. Val woulda kicked the shit outta me if I said that to him.” A low growl rose in the Radio Demon’s chest, and Angel’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile as she snuggled closer. “She said she’d work somethin’ out with him. I almost figured she was just talkin’ shit, but you know how she is; bitch could sell condoms to a nun.”

“So she convinced Valentino to let her manage you…while still keeping you in his employ.”

“Pretty much. Long as he got his money, he said it didn’t matter how I earned it. So my first few months here at the hotel, I was workin’ under Venn instead. Made my life a helluva lot easier.”

“But I imagine that changed when you and I came to our agreement.”

“Yeeeah…” Angel started to fidget with his hands, tracing the spots of dark pink on his pig’s skin. “That’s where things start gettin’ complicated.”

_Oh, have they been simple up to this point? We must have different definitions of ‘complicated.’_

“If I’m going to understand, I’ll have to hear all of it.”

“Yeah. So that first night Venn showed up here, it was right after she talked to Val and told him what was goin’ on with you and me—uh, actually, she didn’t mention it was you. Just told him I was doin’ this whole sugarin’ thing, so my income was prob’ly gonna be different.”

Alastor thought back to that evening and the brief bit of conversation he’d heard between Venture and Angel. It had been inconclusive at the time, but Angel did mention that Valentino was involved. At least part of the blame lay with Alastor, then, for not pursuing the subject further. “I take it he wasn’t pleased.”

“Nope. It’s a whole different thing from the kinda work I usually do, not as cut-and-dried, harder for him to make money on. He said he’d only go along with it if I could keep earnin’ as much as usual and payin’ him every week.”

Naturally, that condition stuck out as odd to Alastor right away. “But you haven’t. Not that I count every dollar you spend, but I’m certain there haven’t been any unexplained hundreds going missing every week.”

“Right.” The spider let out a sort of nervous laugh, scooping Fat Nuggets up into his arms and stroking his belly absently while he sprawled in complete relaxation, utterly oblivious to the tense chat being had beyond him. “So, uh, when Venn told me all that, I guess I kinda panicked. I didn’t know what I was gonna do or how I was gonna tell you, and she…offered to lend me the money?”

There was a moment of silence, other than the pig’s happy snuffling as Angel was petting him. It wasn’t the revelation Alastor was expecting, but it also could have been much worse. When dealing with most people, Venture would’ve been as ruthless as any loan shark, keeping close track of every cent of debt incurred, including a significant interest rate—or else tallying up favors that were worth the money she spent. If she chose to, she could be as much a hindrance as she was a help. However, luckily for both of them, Angel was not most people.

One way or another, he had found himself in the fortunate position of being someone Venture cared for. It was clear in her every interaction with him, in her concern for his wellbeing, in the general gentleness of her demeanor around him. This had always been an unfortunate weakness of hers, since long before she and Alastor had ever met. Her affection for Angel was platonic, of course, and therefore no threat to Alastor’s. If he was honest, he was grateful for it in some ways; it would make her an ally in this entire situation with Valentino, as she was highly unlikely to turn on a loved one for the sake of profit. Her loyalty may not have been entirely wise, but it was useful nevertheless. Why, Alastor wouldn’t have been surprised if she weren’t even keeping track of how much Angel supposedly owed her at this point.

“So she’s been paying Valentino all this time,” he reasoned, looking to his beau for confirmation, “telling him that it’s money you’ve taken from me—or whomever is sponsoring you at the moment.”

“I think so. I don’t want ya to think she’s the one pressin’ me about it now, though,” Angel added quickly. _No, I didn’t imagine so._ “She only brought it up ‘cause Val called her gripin’, wantin’ me back at the studio. He found out it was you takin’ care of me, and…I dunno, maybe he feels threatened.”

Well, that was a very satisfying thought. _And so he should._ It wasn’t as if Alastor was about to send Angel on his way without a fight if he didn’t want to go. As he moved Angel onto the bed and got to his feet, the spider quickly argued, “Al, you said—”

“I’m not going anywhere, mon ange.” To drive his point home, he paused for a soft but steady kiss before straightening up and starting to pace the perimeter of the room. “I just need to think, and I don’t do that as well when I’m sitting still. Now, what is it you want to do?”

“I mean, I ain’t got many choices.”

“Sure you do. You can choose to do what Valentino tells you to, or you can choose to prioritize your own wants and needs.”

Angel let out a sigh and reminded him, “He owns me, Alastor. Whatever right I had to argue with him went out the window years ago.” That point made Alastor’s stride falter for only a moment before he picked it back up and continued, refusing to be discouraged and slip into hopelessness.

“Answer the question, cher. _Do_ you want to go back to him?”

“Course I don’t.”

“Then you won’t. While I typically don’t care for breaking promises or going back on deals, I think the one you’re in at the moment is unfairly weighted against you.” He was gesturing idly as he spoke, but every word was sincere. “You weren’t made aware of every aspect of the agreement when you took it, and it seems clear that you’ve both changed significantly since then. The way I see it, you’re locked into a contract that can no longer benefit you. If you want a way out, I’ll help you find one.” He stopped near his desk and fixed Angel with a steady gaze that (he hoped) showed he was fully serious about this offer. “And before you ask, no, it won’t cost you anything. I hate to see those in power take advantage of those who have less, so I want to help on principle.” And for other reasons it was best not to go into at the moment.

“I don’t think you know what you’re sayin’.” The spider wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t looking at his pet, wasn’t looking anywhere really, his eyes directed vaguely down and to the left but out of focus. It was odd seeing him so listless, so resigned, not at all the punchy, self-assured person he usually was. And it seemed this despondent mood of his only came out when the subject of Valentino was addressed. _All the more reason to cut him out of the picture for good._ “Dontcha think I’ve tried thinkin’ of ways out before? Even if it ain’t fair, I agreed to it already, so that’s on me.”

“Yes, and you’ve served it faithfully for quite some time now. Was there anything in your agreement stating that the deal was permanent, no matter what changed between you?”

Angel blinked, his expression flat and blank for a moment. “I…guess not? I mean, I don’t think he said ‘forever’ or anything. Just as long as he kept his end, I had to keep mine.”

The Radio Demon couldn’t help but breathe a silent sigh of relief as he continued his pacing. “Then there are two ways to go about this. We either force him into a position wherein he’s explicitly breaking the terms of the deal, or we prove that he’s no longer trying to uphold it.”

“Prove it to who?”

“To Lucifer. If we do that, he can void the agreement.” That would probably prove more difficult than it sounded. Even getting an audience with the king was, in itself, no simple feat, to say nothing of persuading him one way or another. But Alastor had heard that other demons had done it in the past, so why not him? It wasn’t as if a little inconvenience was about to discourage him from pursuing this to its end. If it meant Angel’s safety, there was no length he wouldn’t go to. “So I’ll find a way to do one or the other.”

There was silence for a moment as the spider fidgeted absently with the trim on his shorts. “Just like that, huh?” There was something like hesitation in his voice, and it made Alastor a little less sure of himself as well.

“Do you not want an out?” he asked, cautiously approaching the foot of the bed.

“It’s not that. It’s just…I spent the past fifty years or so tryna accept that this is how life works now, and here you come ready to change it all without even thinkin’ twice.” Once again, Angel sounded bitter in the very particular way he often did when talking about his professional history. “Ya can’t really blame me for not wantin’ to get my hopes up.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Even as he leaned in closer, his beau refused to look up at him. “Don’t you believe I’m willing to do what’s necessary to help you?”

After several very long, very tense moments, Angel answered reservedly, “I want to.”

_Ouch._ Still, Angel had been right to say that Alastor couldn’t blame him for having doubts. It seemed he’d seen enough promises broken in his life to know a person’s word was only as good as the actions that enforced it. “Then I’ll just have to prove it to you. Now, what did Venture tell Valentino when he called this evening?”

“She said I’d throw a fit if he took me outta the hotel—and so would Charlie. I don’t think he knows much about her, so he prob’ly just figures it ain’t smart to piss off Lucifer’s kid. He let up about me comin’ back to the studio, but he wants me payin’ double this month. I feel like he’s just gonna keep uppin’ the number again and again until Venn gets tired of it and drops me.” The spider let his head rest in his hands, an image of hopelessness if Alastor had ever seen one.

He couldn’t be sure whether that assumption—that Venture would leave him high and dry if he cost her enough money—was a result of his past experiences or just proof that he didn’t know her very well, but regardless, it wasn’t likely to be an issue. “She wouldn’t. And even if she did, I won’t. No one is going to take you from us against your will.” Alastor refused to entertain the idea of sending his beau back to that manipulative cad Valentino for even a day. He belonged there at the hotel, there in Alastor’s bed, and by God, that was where he would stay. Still, it didn’t seem this conversation was doing much to lift Angel’s spirits. Taking a seat beside him on the bed, running a hand through his already-loosened curls, Alastor asked, “Would it help if we talked about something else?”

Unsurprisingly, Angel responded with a quick and fervent nod. He tended to avoid discussing his problems in depth if he had any choice in the matter, so Alastor figured he’d learned enough for one night.

“Why don’t you tell me about this little one, then?” Making himself comfortable in bed and gesturing for his beau to do the same, the Radio Demon flicked Fat Nuggets’s ear. Once Angel had settled down, the pig waddled over to curl up at his side, forcing him to smile.

“Nuggs? Yeah, I guess ya don’t know much about him. Cherri got him for me a few years back on my birthday. Ya believe he’s already that old? He still acts like a baby. Guess he’s _my_ baby, anyway. She acted like it was this casual, spontaneous thing, but I know she had it planned for like a week.” As he continued to talk about his pet and his friend, Angel soon relaxed and was smiling genuinely, relieved to be moving on to a more comfortable topic. And Alastor couldn’t help but smile back while he listened, nodding and responding when appropriate, enjoying being with his love for another hour or so before Angel fell asleep and he was forced to turn his attention back to less pleasant matters…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you're all invited to follow me on Twitter (@Syntaxeme) for earlier access to new chapters!


	13. Enough to Go Around

It took some doing, but Alastor eventually managed to convince Angel that leaving the hotel wouldn’t inherently put him in danger of being abducted by Valentino and dragged back to his studio. Just to be on the safe side, however, he asked that Alastor accompany him when he wanted to go out. He couldn’t really say he was bothered to be accompanying his beau on the odd shopping trip now and then.

To his surprise, Angel was the one to revisit the subject of his introduction to Cherri Bomb. He’d almost expected that he would have to persuade his beau to allow it. After all, surely Angel didn’t go around introducing just any client to his personal friends. So maybe Angel didn’t see him as ‘just any client’ anymore? As hesitant as he was to jump to any conclusions and set himself up for disappointment, Alastor allowed himself to see this as encouraging.

They planned the meeting for an afternoon maybe two weeks after Angel’s most recent outing with Cherri, as she said she wanted to show him her new place. Charlie and Vaggie were both a bit apprehensive about Angel getting involved in another scandal at her side, but Alastor assured them he would do all he could to keep the peace so there was nothing to worry about.

“Ugh, she’s such a fuckin’ flake lately,” Angel huffed, pacing impatiently by the bar and checking his phone for the fourth time in ten minutes. “First it’s ‘sure, we’ll meet up at two,’ then it’s ‘sorry, I got held up,’ now it’s fuckin’ five o’clock and she’s not even botherin’ to text me back anymore!”

“You said yourself that she’s been busy,” Alastor pointed out, satisfied just to spend time with his beau, Cherri’s presence notwithstanding. “I’m sure she’ll get back to you soon. Why don’t you have a seat in the meantime? You’re just going to upset yourself more, pacing around like that.”

“I’m mostly pissed she’s wastin’ _your_ time,” the spider grumbled, following Alastor’s direction and collapsing onto a barstool next to him.

“You mean your time with me?” Alastor asked with a knowing smile.

“That’s all your time that matters, ain’t it?” His beau stuck out his tongue, but as Alastor leaned in to playfully reprimand him, Husk cleared his throat loudly.

“Can you two get a fuckin’ room already?”

“Whatsamatter, pussycat? You mad ‘cause Venn ain’t here to scratch your ears?” Angel teased, and Husk rolled his eyes.

“Fuck off.”

“Where is Venture, by the way?” Alastor wondered aloud. “I recall her specifically arranging her workload around this day so she would be off. I assumed that was because she wanted to spend it with you, Husker.”

The barcat’s brow furrowed harder for a moment before he shook off whatever emotion had dared disturb his impassivity and shrugged. “Nah, she’s got other shit to do. Still work, just a different kind. You know she doesn’t do days off.” It was impossible to tell whether that bothered him or not, likely by design.

As Alastor understood it, the two of them had progressed their relationship in one way or another the same night Angel had divulged his past with Valentino, evidenced mostly by the fact that Husk could be caught smiling more often and Venture was less shy about casually touching him. The entire dynamic still eluded Alastor in many ways, but he supposed it wasn’t his place to understand anyone else’s relationship when he still had such a rough time of managing his own.

When the hotel’s front doors opened, Alastor looked up with some disappointment, expecting to see Cherri, but when he registered who the new arrival actually was, he went rigid for an entirely different reason. Although they’d never met before, he still recognized the newcomer as the third member of Vox and Valentino’s loathsome entourage. She was small for an Overlord but hardly subtle, with two-toned pigtails and a faceful of clownlike makeup, all illuminated by the cell phone firmly glued to her hands.

“Hey, Angel cakes,” she called pleasantly without looking up from the screen, and Alastor only then noticed the horror that had come across his beau’s face. Angel looked utterly stricken, but when Alastor reached over to take his hand, he quickly snapped out of his distress and drew away, putting on a friendly smile.

“Heya, Vel. ‘S been a minute. What, uh…whaddaya doin’ here? Did Val send ya, or…?” Despite his light tone, there was no missing the tension in his body.

“Nah, he doesn’t know I’m here. Can you imagine? I bet he’d be pissed,” she giggled distractedly. After a brief glance around the lobby, she announced, “Aw, it’s kinda cute. In like a sad way. Really didn’t expect it to last this long, but I guess you’ve had help. Still kind of a losing battle, though.”

Alastor refrained from responding in the hotel’s defense, unsure what this girl’s game was but certain he had no interest in playing. After a moment or two of silence, she must have felt the awkwardness in the air, as she let out an abrasive laugh and went on, “Can you all chill? I’m not even here for you; quit being all spazzy.”

“What _are_ you here for, then?” the Radio Demon finally asked. Knowing even the little that he did about her, he knew her presence could be nothing but trouble, so the sooner she came out with what she wanted, the sooner she could be dealt with and dismissed. When Alastor spoke, her eyes snapped up to his, and her smile widened mischievously. Her phone disappeared from her hands, freeing them up to be folded innocently in front of her.

“You’re the guy, huh? The big bad Radio Demon. Vox talks a lot of shit about you, y’know. He acts like you two have all this history but he doesn’t really say what happened. Did you have, like, a _thing_ with him before?”

“Excuse me?” If she was suggesting what it sounded like, the very idea was enough to make him physically ill. The only ‘thing’ that had ever been between him and Vox was a mutual measure of disdain and resentment, kept peaceable mostly by the fact that they so rarely saw one another.

“Don’t act like you’re not a little bit obsessed with him, Alastor. Just a tiny bit?” the girl insisted, obviously relishing his discomfort. “All that tension’s gotta go somewhere, and things between him and Val are always up in the air. If you wanted, I bet you could—”

“ _Velvet_ , you naughty thing,” Venture called as she reached the foot of the stairs. She was dressed in a form-fitting suit of all black, a departure from her usual gaudy wardrobe, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. As she strode purposefully across the lobby, hands folded behind her, she chided, “I do believe I asked you to wait for me outside, my pet.”

“Mm, yeah, maybe.” Velvet admired her openly, biting her lower lip and fidgeting where she stood. “I just couldn’t resist checking the place out for a minute.”

“And we’ll discuss how you’re going to make up for that later,” Venture said with a mild smile. “For now, shall we?” She offered her arm, and Velvet latched onto it without a moment’s hesitation.

“Excuse me?” Alastor repeated, a little louder this time, and he could’ve sworn he saw his friend roll her eyes. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, of course—”

“Then don’t,” she said brusquely. “I’ll be back late, so try to keep the hotel in one piece while I’m gone.” Without bothering to wait for an answer, she led Velvet out the door and shut it behind them, effectively ending the conversation.

“Fuck!” Angel hissed, dropping his head into his hands. “What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ Velvet here? Like I wasn’t freaked out enough about Val already? She coulda warned me, at least!”

“She thought about it,” Husk explained. “But you two were supposed to be gone by the time Velvet showed up.”

“Wait, you knew about this?” Alastor asked, still thoroughly thrown by what he’d just seen. “She told you about it? And you’re all right with it?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, you two are…together, aren’t you? At the very least, you have some feelings for her.” Alastor couldn’t understand why everyone kept looking at him as if he were speaking gibberish. Wasn’t this a fair concern to have? He’d already made it very clear how he felt about the idea of Angel being involved with anyone else; if his beau had mentioned that he wanted a day out with some other man (with clearly suspect intentions), there was no way Alastor could’ve accepted it so calmly. In fact, he found himself somewhat indignant on Husk’s behalf as well. It seemed insensitive at best, cruel at worst, for Venture to so openly take another lover— _ugh_ —out right in front of him.

“Look, Al, I ain’t gonna spell the whole thing out for ya. Frankly, it ain’t your business what she does or with who. Just let it go.” Because he was so perpetually grouchy at the best of times, there was no way to tell if Husk had any particular frustration tied into this affair himself. Maybe he just wasn’t possessive of his belle like Alastor was of his beau?

“I dunno what the fuck she’s thinkin’,” Angel said quietly. “Velvet’s just as dangerous as Val and Vox, and she’s prob’ly spyin’ for them anyway. Venn’s gotta have a reason, right? She wouldn’t be doin’…whatever she’s doin’ without some kinda point. Right?” He glanced at Alastor, who tried to offer a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation, cher. I’ll admit I can’t guess it, but you and I both know that Venture wouldn’t do or say anything to jeopardize your safety.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Husk muttered, a hint of bitterness showing through his tone.

“So try not to worry. Whatever plans she has, I’m sure she’ll explain them in due time.” That being said, if those plans related to Angel, it would’ve been courteous of her to discuss them with him beforehand. She did have a nasty habit of acting on her own with little explanation more than an offhanded _just trust me_. They would have to discuss that sometime.

The hotel’s peace was further interrupted by the sound of a loud, obnoxious car horn outside. A woman’s voice quickly followed, shouting out, “An-JAY, you comin’ or what?” Although Alastor didn’t particularly care for Cherri’s methods of announcing herself, they brought a laugh and a smile to his beau’s lips, so he supposed he couldn’t begrudge them too much.

“Better late than never, I guess,” Angel said, getting up and grabbing Alastor’s hand to drag him toward the door. Parked outside the hotel was a sort of old-fashioned, bright red convertible painted with loud images of bombs and explosions along the side. Cherri Bomb—another individual Alastor had never met in person but still recognized—was seated in the front, her messy hair evidence enough that she’d been driving with the top down. When she saw Angel, she grinned and hopped out of the car without bothering to open the door, meeting him with open arms for a tight hug. “Where the hell you been, bitch?” Although Angel’s words were caustic, his tone was still light, as if this were the sort of thing friends casually said to one another.

“Trust me, I’m just as pissed as you are. It’s like my guys can’t handle themselves for ten minutes without me,” Cherri huffed, rolling her eye as they separated. “Serves me right for bringin’ in strays off the street.”

“Hey, bringin’ in strays ain’t always a bad thing,” Angel protested. “I know ya had at least one work out all right.”

“Who? Ya mean _Tony_? Yeah, I guess he was a good guy while he stuck around.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that.” The spider made a face somewhere between distaste and discomfort. “I don’t even know that guy anymore.”

Given all the practice he’d had with reading Niffty’s expressions (and with forcing a smile at all times himself), Alastor could see the slight change in Cherri’s expression that gave away her sadness, either at Angel’s response or at the subject in general. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Angel’s name had once been Anthony, but it rarely came up these days, to say nothing of ‘Tony.’ He could only assume that nickname was specific to his relationship with Cherri. Or their past together, at least.

“So,” she said, turning her attention on Alastor to change the subject, “this is him, huh?”

“Oh, right,” Angel said, taking a step back to make introductions. “Cherri, this is Alastor. Al, Cherri.”

“Charmed.” Alastor offered his hand, trying to be polite to this young woman who was obviously so important to his beau, but rather than shaking it, she simply slapped his palm.

“Sure. Angie won’t shut up about you, so I figured we’d hafta meet sooner or later.” She swept her gaze around the empty curb, then asked Angel, “Guess you’re ridin’ with me? Figured _Daddy_ woulda bought you your own set of wheels by now.” She shot Alastor a wicked grin, and he returned an easy smile of his own.

“Well, he hasn’t asked yet.”

“Eh, it ain’t really a priority,” Angel said with a shrug as he crawled into the back seat and gestured for Alastor to join him. The Radio Demon didn’t miss the narrowing of Cherri’s eye, but if it bothered her that Angel wasn’t sitting up front, she didn’t mention it. “Charlie usually sends her driver with us if we wanna go out, and I ain’t s’posed to leave that often anyway.”

“That one of your rules?” Cherri asked, shooting Alastor a look through the rearview mirror as she revved up the engine.

“It’s more a guideline than a hard and fast rule, and it applies to all the hotel’s patrons, not just Angel. We just feel—” His voice was drowned by a screech of static as Cherri’s car peeled away from the curb much faster than necessary. He’d never been particularly fond of planes, trains, or automobiles in general, and the especially fast ones were worse still. No sense of control. He wasn’t a fan. Noticing how tense he’d gotten, Angel pried one of Alastor’s hands away from the leather seat to hold it in his own and stroked his knuckles lightly. Surprising how effective that was at calming him down. “Ahem. It’s easier to resist the temptation to sin when one isn’t surrounded by it at every turn. The hotel provides an environment where—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the whole idea already,” Cherri said offhandedly as they sped across town. “I think everybody in town does by now. How’s that workin’ out so far?”

“About as well as I expected. Angel’s surprised me with his good behavior, if I’m honest.”

“Most of the time, anyway,” his beau mumbled, presumably referring to his brief drug relapse. But that had been largely Alastor’s fault, hadn’t it?

“Yeah, I figured he woulda dropped out a couple times by now,” Cherri confessed.

“I mean, it ain’t like I never thought about it,” Angel agreed. When Alastor gave him a questioning look, he shrugged and added, “Y’know, before. Not lately.” It seemed like he was sort of flip-flopping back and forth between the tough, streetwise image that most people (like Cherri) knew him for and the gentler, more vulnerable attitude he showed around Alastor. Was he concerned about his friend judging him for ‘getting soft’? That would hardly have been fair of her.

The drive to Cherri’s part of town took maybe 20 minutes, and most of it was drowned in loud, grating rock music that set Alastor’s teeth on edge. The southwest portion of Pentagram City was distinctly darker and noisier than the north side where the hotel was located. Although it was difficult to call any part of the town ‘civilized,’ it was easy enough to declare this part excessively chaotic. The buildings were even more rundown, some clearly abandoned, the streets unkempt and cluttered with trash—not that that was an issue, as there didn’t seem to be many cars on the road. Some of the demons they passed shouted either greetings or obscenities at Cherri; it was hard to distinguish between the two.

She parked in front of what looked like a bar and hopped out of the car, beckoning Angel and Alastor to do the same. Even though the rational part of him knew it was unnecessary, Alastor still resolved to keep an eye on his beau while they were there, just to be safe. Cherri must have noticed how he was observing the area, as she noted, “Guess this is a little lowbrow compared to what you’re used to, huh? Sorry ya hafta be down here rubbin’ elbows with lowlifes like us.”

Raising an eyebrow at her sour tone, he replied, “Hell is Hell no matter which part of it you’re in, dear, and I haven’t forgotten that for a second. Personally, I find it refreshing to be around demons who are aware of and honest about what they are.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. C’mon, Ange, you gotta see my new place!” She took Angel’s arm to lead him into the bar without further ado, and he shot Alastor an apologetic glance as he followed along behind them. (Honestly, the Radio Demon was more bothered by her use of that word, ‘ange,’ even if she was saying it incorrectly, than by her pushy attitude.)

The inside of the bar, unlike its nondescript outside, was an assault on the senses, from the glaring hot pink of neon lights to the patrons’ rowdy laughter to the almost overwhelming scent of liquor that hung in the air thick as morning fog. There was a bar to their left behind which stood two swarthy, nearly-identical leporine demons, one man and one woman, both dressed in shining black leather, both in the process of performatively pouring drinks for the patrons gathered around. They greeted Cherri with two version of the same grin and lit up even further when their eyes fell on Angel.

“Ooh, looks like we got a celebrity in the house,” the woman teased as Cherri led him over to sit at one end of the bar. There happened to be an extra seat open at Angel’s other side for Alastor to take, but if there hadn’t been, he imagined Cherri wouldn’t have made much effort to solve the issue. He was getting the impression that she’d already decided she didn’t like him. _So why did she suggest this meeting in the first place?_

“Hey, Ombra,” Angel answered with a beaming smile. “Been a minute, huh?”

“Sul serio! Where ya been at, babydoll?”

“That halfway hotel must be pretty ritzy for you to stick around this long,” the male bartender agreed. They both had notable New York accents, much like Angel himself, and even their voices sounded similar.

“Eh. It’s kind of a letdown if ya ask me,” Cherri said with a shrug. What was it with bratty young women insulting his hotel this evening? Before Alastor could step in to argue that the hotel had actually been vastly improved in recent months, Cherri shot him a look and added, “But the scenery ain’t really the reason he’s there. Right, Angel?”

The spider rolled his eyes. “Can I get a drink over here?”

“Oh.” The twins(?) finally seemed to notice Alastor there and cocked their heads at him curiously. “Who’re you, mista?”

“You with the boss?”

“For the moment. My name is Alastor.” He offered his hand, but neither of the rabbits reached to accept it. Not that he’d expected them to, given his reputation. Nevertheless, he smiled through it. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“Cosa ci fa il Radio Demon qui?” Ombra hissed to Angel.

“He’s with me,” Angel answered casually.

Since he didn’t elaborate, Alastor did so for him. “I’m Angel’s…benefactor, let’s say.”

Cherri let out a snort of laughter. “Right, and you’re not gettin’ anything outta the deal yourself.” Well, that was how it had started, at least.

“Oh, I never said that.” He stole a glance at his beau, who was starting to flush a bit but smiling nevertheless. “Anyway, about that drink. What’s your pleasure, cher? A John Collins?”

“You know what I like, honey,” Angel cooed with a sweet smile.

Cherri interrupted their banter with an exaggerated gagging sound. “All right already, save that shit for when I don’t hafta stomach it,” she said. “And fuck cocktails, we’re doin’ shots. Spettro, set ‘em up. Whaddaya think, Angie, gin?”

“C’mon, babe, we weren’t plannin’ on gettin’ fucked up tonight. The sun’s barely even down!” Despite Angel’s protests, the male bartender was already lining up three shot glasses and filling them with clear liquor from a green bottle. “Hey, there’s no point pourin’ for Al anyway; he doesn’t really drink.”

“Welll, we’re in a fuckin’ bar. What’d ya think we came here for? Canasta?” Leaning forward against the bar to look at Alastor critically, Cherri demanded, “What’s the deal, Gramps? It’s against your religion or somethin’?”

Why she was making such a point of antagonizing him, he still wasn’t sure, but he actually found her combative attitude more entertaining than irritating. “No, it just doesn’t seem necessary to me. I can enjoy myself just as much while perfectly sober.” That, and he preferred to keep his head as clear as possible.

“Hey, I get it. If ya can’t hang, ya can’t hang,” the cyclops said with a wicked grin, obviously trying to bait him. He wasn’t swayed until she went on casually, “I just figured anyone who’s gonna be with Angel has to be able to keep up with him, y’know? Otherwise he’ll prob’ly get outta hand pretty quick.”

“You’re bein’ such a bitch right now,” Angel told her matter-of-factly. To Alastor, he added, “If ya don’t wanna drink, it’s no big deal.”

“No, no,” Alastor argued, pulling one of the shot glasses across the bar to himself. “If it’s what we’re here for, I don’t mind playing along. Santé.” He tossed back the shot without so much as a flinch despite being viscerally disgusted with the taste and the burning sensation it left in his throat. This was less about proving anything to Cherri and more about proving to himself that he could do whatever was necessary to maintain his place in Angel’s life, no matter the circumstances. When he glanced at Cherri, eyebrows raised, she was grinning back gleefully.

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” she crowed. While she and Angel downed their own shots, Spettro leaned across the bar to refill the glass still in Alastor’s hand.

“Drink up, baby,” he purred with a playful wink. “Plenty more where that came from.” While Alastor was frozen in his seat, unsure of how to respond, Ombra grabbed her fellow tender and pulled him aside to whisper at him in feverish Italian.

“Sei fottutamente stupido? Sai cosa ti farà se sbagli?”

“Lo rischierei. Può essere mio ‘benefattore’ se vuole.” They both glanced at the Radio Demon again, she in nervous fear, he with obvious curiosity, but Alastor avoided their eyes and kept his attention on Angel instead. He probably shouldn’t have been embarrassed by the attention, but he was much more used to fear and apprehension than…whatever Spettro was displaying. Regardless, Alastor was only available to one person, the pink spider next to him who was currently pouring himself and his friend a second shot.

Having grown up in the early 20th Century Southern U.S., Alastor had had his fair share of experience with alcohol in life. He’d never been particularly fond of it, but he would’ve said he could hold his liquor as well as the next person. However, since his death, he’d rarely had any cause to drink anymore, so it was possible his tolerance had worn down a bit. Point being: after he’d taken his third shot, while Angel and Cherri were carrying on a boisterous conversation alongside him, Alastor found himself wishing for his usual ___ and tonic instead of more alcohol.

“Hey.” Angel tilted his head down to meet Alastor’s eyes, drawing his gaze away from where it had been lingering on the bar itself. Sitting up straight, trying to present himself as if he were totally unaffected by the liquor, the Radio Demon gave him what he hoped was a believably self-assured smile. The sympathetic look on his beau’s face said it was not. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m fine, sha.” That would’ve been his automatic answer to any such question regardless of whether or not it was true, so he didn’t fully understand the snort of laughter Angel suppressed. “Somethin’ funny about that?”

“Nah, I just never seen ya drunk before,” Angel explained. “I think your Louisiana’s comin’ out a little.”

“Me, I’m not drunk,” the Radio Demon answered, indignant even though he knew it was true. Shouldn’t he at least be able to pretend more convincingly than this? “Not yet I’m not.”

“Sounds like ya need to keep drinkin’, then,” Cherri answered with a devious grin. Honestly, she was relentless!

“Ease up, babe. I think we oughta slow down a little.” The look on Angel’s face said he was concerned for Alastor, which the Radio Demon didn’t much care for. _Why should he be worried about me? I can take care of myself._

“Mais non, we just started,” Alastor argued, waving off his beau’s concerns. To Spettro, he added, “Get us another round set up, wouldja, cap?”

“Whatever you say, rosso,” the bartender agreed as he refilled all three glasses, apparently amused by Alastor’s state just like Angel was. Some part of him knew that it was stupid, willfully drinking more than he could handle just to prove that he could. Another part, however, the stubborn, ornery part he’d inherited from his mother, said if there were any one quality that was unacceptable in a man, it was cowardice. So _no_ , he would _not_ be backing down from this challenge, no matter how pointless the whole exercise was.

This fourth shot went down a bit easier than the first few, maybe because he’d reached a point where pigheadedness was overriding most of his other sensibilities. “Now,” he said, only slightly louder than necessary, turning his attention back to Cherri, “I still don’t know much about you, sha. How do you ‘n’ Angel know each other?”

“What, he’s never toldja?” She gave Angel—who seemed to be much less affected by the alcohol than either of his companions—a reproachful look. “I’m the one that taught his scrawny ass how to make it down here. Y’know he was a mafia kid back when he was alive but he died not knowin’ how to use a gun?”

“Shameful,” Alastor clucked, shaking his head.

“Hey, I knew the basics,” Angel argued, pouting.

“Sure, but ya couldn’t hit a target to save your life.” Cherri seemed happy enough to continue expounding on her history with Angel: how she’d found him at rock bottom early on in his afterlife, how she’d taken him under her wing and taught him how to defend himself (and then some), how the two of them had run her gang together for some time and had all sorts of death-defying escapades. It was clear from the way Angel joined in her retellings that he missed those days almost as much as she did. Alastor, meanwhile, was content to sit by and listen to them reminisce, prompting them occasionally for further details or answers. There was something unexpectedly intimate about being present for this episode of friendly nostalgia, the two of them so readily and openly sharing their past as if to make Alastor a part of it. It was nice. Pleasantly mundane. Angel’s life and his own converging just a little more all the time.

As Cherri started to order another round, Angel sighed heavily and got up from his seat. “Hang on a minute, I need a break. Where’s the bathroom in this joint?”

As much as Alastor disliked seeing his beau leave, he was grateful for a few more minutes’ delay on his next shot. Once Angel was gone, Cherri looked askance at Alastor and said, “Y’know, I can’t get a read on you.”

“That so?” he asked mildly as he toyed with his shot glass. He started to lean against the bar, then quickly reconsidered as he realized it was sticky with some spilled liquor or another (as he had done several times in the past few minutes).

“Yeah. I figured you’d be talkin’ about yourself way more, but all ya do is sit there and stare at Angel. But I guess that’s somethin’, ain’t it?” She spun around on her barstool so she was facing the rest of the room and leaned back against the bar on her elbows. “I guess just you bein’ here with him is a big deal. Val never woulda come out to the slums just so Angel could see me. He never—”

“Stop comparing me to him,” Alastor said abruptly, starting to tap his heel against the floor in a nervous rhythm. “I know where it’s comin’ from. You’re not the first one to do it. But I want it to stop. We’re not the same.”

Cherri observed him thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging and answering, “Prove it.” From somewhere outside the bar, there was a sound of shattering glass and a scream, and her gaze snapped toward the door. With all the windows blacked out, it was impossible to see what was going on in the street beyond, but judging by the screech of tires and the growing cacophony of shouting voices, it wasn’t anything good. “What the fuck…?” Cherri got up and strode outside to check on the situation, causing a brief spike in the commotion’s volume as she opened the doors.

Alastor remained where he was, unsure of what he should be doing now that he was alone, listening as Cherri’s voice joined the chorus of angry shouts. Sounds of impact, like fists against flesh. An explosion somewhere. He’d realized they were in a rough part of town, so to speak, but whatever was going on out there sounded far from routine. The question was how involved or otherwise he and Angel should be in it.

“Hey,” Angel said as he returned from the restroom, looking around for his friend. “Where’d Cherri go?”

“Outside. Sounds like some kinda fight out there.”

The spider frowned, glancing toward the door, looking conflicted as he caught wind of the bedlam on the street as well. “Should we be—”

He was interrupted as the doors burst open, allowing the noise from outside to flood the bar. From what Alastor could see, it looked like a small-scale war was taking place on the street, though he could hardly differentiate between the two sides. A disheveled Cherri stood in the door, lobbing a handheld bomb down the street as she shouted inside, “I could use some fuckin’ help out here!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the twins—and half the bar’s patronage—leapt to and armed themselves with guns or knives or shattered bottles to rush out into the fray. Once they’d passed, Cherri called to Angel, “Angie, are you gonna—” Frowning, she stopped herself and huffed, “You should prob’ly get outta here.”

“Fuck that!” Angel snapped even as she headed back outside to rejoin the fight. “Al, c’mon, we gotta help her.” The anxious look on Angel’s face said he was afraid Alastor might try to stop him from stepping in. But when he seemed to feel so strongly, it didn’t seem right to make him abandon his friend just to avoid a confrontation.

“Of course. After you,” Alastor agreed, getting up to follow his beau out of the bar, only wavering slightly before finding his feet.

_So much for keeping the peace. But what’s the worst that could happen?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry as always for the late update! Chapter 14 is mostly done and 15 is also in-progress, so you shouldn't have to wait much longer for them. If anyone has any personal experience with Italian and noticed I wrote something wrong for the twins, let me know. Also if Alastor's accent feels a little spotty, it's intentional; it's only supposed to be like... _part_ of his original accent showing. Anyway, I wanted the boys to have a little happiness before we get back on the pain train, but uh...pls be aware that we're headed in that direction. >_>
> 
> Thanks for reading! 💖


	14. Hot Enough to Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, nsfw warning for this chapter. Also mild angst warning for the end. Also it's long as fuck. 👀💦  
> As always, if you're active there, I suggest [following me on Twitter](http://twitter.com/syntaxeme/) for lil sneak peeks and more frequent updates. Thanks for your patience and enjoy! 💖

The street outside was utter chaos, an all-out brawl between 100+ demons of all kinds—or so it seemed at first. As Alastor watched, he began to notice that while one side, presumably Cherri’s motley crew, had no observable common elements, the group they were fighting seemed to be made up entirely of Hellborn demons. Imps, specifically. Their particular coloration at least made it simpler to tell which side Alastor himself was on.

Angel didn’t waste a moment jumping into the fight alongside his friend, withdrawing a matching set of two Colt 1911s from somewhere in the long, pink trench coat he was wearing. As one of the larger imps was approaching Cherri from behind, Angel stepped in and raised a gun to the offender’s forehead, then fired point-blank. A delighted shiver coursed through Alastor, and his grin widened further still. He hadn’t been given nearly enough opportunities to see his beau get violent during their time together—likely because he tried to keep Angel out of harm’s way whenever possible—so this was a new and fascinating occasion. A snap of his fingers sent his shadow creatures rushing through the crowd to join the fray as well, though whether to actually help in the fight or to simply cause mischief was debatable.

“What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Angel was asking his friend, mowing down one demon after another as they single-mindedly rushed him. “I thought this whole part of town was yours already!”

“It is! I don’t even know who these fuckers work for; they just showed up and started wreckin’ shit.” She vaulted over Angel’s back to slam the sole of her heavy leather boot into another demon’s face and snarled, “The one fuckin’ day I try to take a break, and you assholes hafta pull this shit!” Some ten feet away, the twins were also fighting side-by-side, a blur of constant motion that made it impossible to tell which was which at a given moment. Surprisingly efficient, too, given their playful attitude earlier!

Alastor was too entertained by the show going on in front of him to realize that he was sort of in the way, until a smaller imp ran into him and stumbled to the ground. Most of the time, his stance would’ve stayed unmoved, but after those few drinks, he found himself swaying a bit from the impact. The imp who had collided with him let out a stream of colorful obscenities until she looked up and registered who he was, her red skin turning pale at the sight of him.

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, still on the ground and starting to scramble away.

“Not much, now you mention it.” He whistled at Shadow to come back to his side, which it did, grabbing up the imp from the ground with one arm wrapped around her throat so Alastor could question her. “What’re _you_ doin’ here, dawlin’?”

“Nothing! I’m leaving right now, I swear!” she managed, struggling fruitlessly in the loa’s grasp. Alastor’s eyes narrowed, and Shadow’s grip tightened, forcing a choked cry from the imp’s lips as she fought for breath.

“Don’t be coy, now. I know you ‘n’ yours must have some good reason for comin’ along and spoilin’ my beau’s day out.” He paused a moment to seek out his love in the crowd and make sure he was still doing all right. Though still armed with his pistols, Angel had obtained a wooden bat from somewhere as well and was using it on any imp who dared to get too close, a sadistic grin spread across his face. Alastor had to suppress a dreamy sigh and forced his attention back to his captive instead. “I’m not askin’ again.”

“Look, it wasn’t our idea.” Since she now seemed to be a bit more talkative, Shadow loosened his grip to let the imp breathe properly, but she was still very much in hot water. “The boss just sent us and said to make trouble for the bomb bitch.”

“And who’s ‘the boss’?” Alastor prompted. When his hostage turned uncooperative again, eyes wandering away from his, he was forced to remind her that the danger he presented was much more immediate than any reprisals from her employer might be. Nodding to Shadow so it clamped down harder on her neck with a vicious grin of its own, the Radio Demon mused, “Well, I wonder who else here’d be willin’ to chat wit’ me.”

“Wait!” the imp gasped predictably, thrashing harder, eyes wide in panic. “It’s Graf, okay? He’s got a gang on the southwest point and Cherri’s getting too close. That’s it! That’s all I know!”

“Hmmm.” After scrutinizing her for a moment, Alastor determined she was telling the truth and gestured for Shadow to release her—back into the thick of the fight. If she could make her way out of it alive, maybe she deserved to escape. But he wasn’t really counting on it, especially since Spettro had seen her stumble away and darted after her with a menacing gleam in his eye.

A deep buzzing sound caught Alastor’s attention, low but steadily getting louder. His first, rather dull thought was that it might be his static acting up, but there was no reason for it to—and certainly no reason for the still-rising crescendo in volume. Also it was coming from somewhere above him. Looking up in vague curiosity, he saw what appeared to be a helicopter making its way toward the brawl. Reinforcements, maybe?

No. Something worse.

As the craft neared, he spied the familiar 666 News logo painted on its side. That meant cameras, reporters, live feeds to display the carnage for all of Hell. And once again, Angel Dust was in the middle of it. It would take too long to explain the situation to Angel and convince him to leave. In fact, there was no guarantee he would be willing to go and leave Cherri to fight alone. But if something wasn’t done and they showed up on the news involved in yet another gang war, it would look very bad for the hotel.

The sound from the helicopter’s blades was only getting louder: harsh, grating noise that made Alastor’s ears twitch and his smile morph into an uncomfortable grimace. Something needed to be done, that much was certain. Most times, he would’ve given it a little more thought before acting, but between the recklessness brought on by his intoxication and the intense displeasure that noise was causing, he didn’t bother.

With an irritable gesture, as if he were swatting away a bug, the sky above the helicopter split open, releasing monstrous black tentacles large enough to topple the average skyscraper. Certainly enough to drag one irritating whirlybird out of the sky. First and foremost, he made sure to cut that sound off as quickly as possible; as the tentacles wrapped around the chopper’s blades and stopped them spinning, Alastor could feel his shoulders relax. _Much better._ At his direction, the tentacles broke the craft in two, then snapped its tail off for good measure and let the whole thing plummet to the ground. From that height, it wasn’t likely anyone would be walking away from the crash. More to the point, they definitely wouldn’t be doing any further filming that day.

Turning his attention back to the fight at hand, Alastor saw that ‘his’ side was clearly winning. The ground was littered with so many bruised or broken red bodies that one could hardly take a step without tripping over them, and the ones still in the fight were flagging fast. How disappointing. They hadn’t even really needed his help. And it was apparent he’d been underestimating Cherri and her gang, writing them off as low-level hoodlums without much real power; they were a destructive force to be reckoned with, as was she herself. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him that his beau kept good company.

“This is what you _get_ ,” Angel barked, curling one of his powerful legs up to deliver a devastating kick to one of the still-fighting imps, “when ya pick a fuckin’ _fight_ with somebody outta your _league_!” Each emphasized word was punctuated with another kick, his boots and legs spattered with dark blood and shining in the low evening light. Everything about him, from the weapons in his hands to the blood staining his coat to the righteous indignation in his voice, was somehow even more tempting than usual, and Alastor suddenly found himself itching to get his beau home and thoroughly inspect him for injuries.

“I think that’s the last of ‘em,” Cherri said, raking her bangs back away from her face to survey the sea of gore the street had become. Grinning at her gang, she added, “Knew I could count on you sorry sonsabitches when I really needed ya. Now what’s—oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Following her exasperated gaze, Alastor glanced down the street and found a second wave of imps poised to attack, all armed to the teeth and not showing any of the signs of exhaustion Cherri’s gang displayed. So maybe they could use his help after all.

“Ya mind if I take these ones, sha?” he asked, stepping up to meet her and Angel where they stood in the middle of the road. “Just to give me somethin’ to do.”

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Cherri agreed, nodding toward the invaders.

“Perfect. Angel.” He summoned a softball-sized orb of bright-burning fire and tossed it back and forth between his hands, smirking mischievously at his beau. “Wouldja mind puttin’ that bat to use for me?”

As he realized what Alastor had in mind, the spider surrendered to an anticipatory smile of his own. Tucking his guns back into his coat, he planted his feet and wound up to swing. “Gimme your best shot, honey.”

Making sure to stand well out of the way, Alastor pitched the fireball at Angel. With a decisive _crack_ from his bat, it was launched at the imps just as they started to charge, and the explosion that came from its impact was hot enough to make even Alastor start to sweat. Suffice to say that when the smoke cleared (more or less), there was no longer any remaining threat to Cherri’s gang.

“Holy shit!” the cyclops squealed, looking over the mess of bodies and still-smoldering flames that crowded the street.

“Oh. Awful sorry about the mess,” Alastor chuckled sheepishly.

“Are you kidding? That was the coolest shit I ever saw!” Cherri laughed right back. “You gotta teach me how to do that sometime. Thanks for the help. We prob’ly coulda handled it, but you made it easier, for sure.”

“My pleasure. By the by, I learned a little something from one of ‘em while you were busy roughin’ the others up.” He relayed what he’d been told by that one very helpful imp toward the beginning of the fight, this business with another gang leader feeling threatened by Cherri’s turf expanding.

“Graf,” she repeated, looking thoroughly puzzled. “I don’t even fuckin’ know the guy. Guess I’ll hafta ask around and see what I can find out.”

“We should prob’ly get goin’, then,” Angel suggested, coming over to twine his arms around one of Alastor’s, pressing the softness of his chest close against the Radio Demon’s shoulder. There was no missing the scent of blood on him, his breath still a bit heavy from all that exertion. As if Alastor didn’t want him badly enough already. “You got gang shit to take care of, and Charlie’s gonna throw a fit if we’re out too late.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cherri agreed reluctantly. “I woulda given ya a ride, but…” She gazed dolefully at the remains of her car, which had been well and truly totaled during the fight.

“Don’t worry about it. Al can get us back,” Angel told her, his tone just a bit too cheerful to be totally genuine. “Thanks for the good time, babe. We’ll catch ya later, all right?”

“Sure. Good meetin’ you,” she said with a nod at Alastor.

“Likewise. Good luck with your, er, pest problem.”

They started down the sidewalk away from the bar, and as soon as Cherri was out of earshot, Angel muttered, “You better get me home fast or I’m gonna go crazy.”

 _Oh, so he has something similar in mind. Good._ “Not sure I can even wait that long.” Alastor led his beau into a nearby alley, pulling him through the shadows and down a few blocks to one of the abandoned buildings they’d passed during their drive with Cherri. It appeared to have once been an office of some sort, and although there was no power, the second floor was still mostly intact. It would do for their purposes. Dragging Angel out of the shadows, he instead shoved his back against a wall and kissed him fiercely, already working to get his coat unbuttoned. The spider let out a shocked squeak but seemed to get the picture quickly enough, kissing Alastor back and sliding two hands through his hair.

When he was finally freed to take a breath, he dropped his head back and panted, “Shit. You really wanna do this here?”

“Why not? No one’s around.” Lining his neck with kisses and bites, Alastor purred, “I’ve never seen you so aggressive, chéri. Just when I thought you couldn’t be more attractive.”

“Oh yeah?” the spider laughed breathlessly, shivering as Alastor licked someone’s spilled blood off his shoulder. “Shoulda known you’d get turned on by somethin’ like that, ya sadist.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, now. It wasn’t just the suffering I liked; it was seein’ _you_ cause it.” He managed to get his beau’s coat off and stripped out of his own too, surprised at how quickly his body was responding to this kind of stimulation. Quicker than usual, that was for sure. Probably a lingering effect of all that alcohol. “And don’t pretend it didn’t get to you too. Maybe you have a sadistic streak of your own, hm?”

“Mm, ya got me there. How could I not get ideas with you lookin’ at me like you were?” The spider used one set of hands to get Alastor’s pants unfastened, the lower ones hiking his skirt up and out of the way so he could strip out of his panties. “Well, whaddaya waitin’ for? If you wanna fuck me right here ‘n’ now—in public, where anybody could catch us—I’m up for it.”

“I know, ma sucrette,” Alastor muttered against his beau’s skin as one of those deft hands slid down the front of his slacks. Groaning and grinding against Angel’s soft palm, he explained, “I can hear how fast your heartbeat’s gotten.”

“Ugh, why the fuck is that hot?” the spider laughed. “I think you’re messin’ with my head, honey. Makin’ it so I can’t get what I need from anyone else. Pretty soon, I’m not gonna be able to get off anymore without your hands and your mouth and your voice…and this.” He stroked between Alastor’s legs again, forcing him to realize how hard he’d gotten just listening to his love talk that way. Taking one of Alastor’s hands to lead it between his legs, he whined, “See how worked up ya got me already?”

“Angel,” the Radio Demon sighed, nuzzling his face into his beau’s chest, moaning deeply from the soft, wet heat against his fingers.

“Ya like that, dontcha?” the spider purred. “Knowin’ you’re the only one that can get me like this. Seein’ me need you.”

When it seemed like Angel already had his number, there wasn’t much point in trying to argue. “I love it, mon ange,” Alastor confessed, slowly exploring with his fingertips, seeking out every spot that made Angel whimper and shudder. His legs trembled slightly, and he stepped them wider apart to give Alastor’s hand more freedom.

“Then gimme what I need, honey. I know you want it just as bad.” He did have a very valid point there.

“All right, sha. No more teasin’. Here…” Since he felt it might be a little awkward to do standing up, what with the difference in their heights, Alastor glanced around the room and found a table nearby that looked sturdy enough. He led his beau over to it, then pushed him down against it face-first, effectively bending him over the edge. Angel didn’t seem to be set back by the shift, just looking back desirously over his shoulder. It only took Alastor a few seconds to get their clothing out of the way and find himself buried deep inside his beau, drawing a low groan of fulfillment from both of them.

“Ooh, fuck yeah,” the spider whined, grasping at the far edge of the table. “Gimme everything ya got, Daddy. I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can.” Alastor kept his hips pressed hard against his beau’s backside for a moment before slowly pulling out, relishing the drawn out “mmm” that came from Angel’s lips. When he thrust back in, the spider let out a shriek, but it was clearly a sound of pleasure. It didn’t take long for Alastor to work into a rhythm, likely bruising Angel’s hips as they clashed against the edge of the table, but if his beau was bothered, he had an odd way of showing it.

“Haa—harder…Daddy…harder!” he gasped, clawing at the table beneath him, dragging gouges through the aged wood. More violence, more of his deceptive strength, and it was still every bit as attractive. “That’s right, honey, take what ya want. Anything ya want. Keep usin’ me ‘til you’re satisfied.”

“That is some mouth you have on you, sha,” Alastor growled, resting one hand firmly on the back of Angel’s neck if for no other reason than to exercise a little more control. Feeling a bit bolder than usual, he decided to try out some of Angel’s own language on him: “You sound so sweet, offerin’ yourself to me like that, but don’t pretend you don’t want it too. We both know you love gettin’ fucked until ya scream. Don’t you?”

A noticeable chill ran down the spider’s spine, and he moaned out, “Ooh, Daddy!”

Unsatisfied, Alastor tightened his grip on his beau’s neck and insisted, “I asked you a question, Angel.”

Although he whimpered and cowered at the stern tone of Alastor’s voice, the poor spider was just getting wetter from his forcefulness. “Yes! I…I love it when you fuck me, Daddy. I like bein’ good for you. It gets me so hot, knowin’ you want me so bad.”

“ _Need_ you, mon ange,” Alastor corrected.

“…even better.” His answer came out softer than expected, and Alastor found himself unsure whether it was genuine. He paused for a moment, then when he pulled out, Angel glanced back at him in concern. “W-wait, why’d ya stop?”

“Relax,” Alastor told him, helping him to stand, then turning him around to lift him by his hips and set him on the table. Pushing the spider’s legs apart, he explained, “I just want to see the look on your face when I get you there.”

“Oh.” Whether from excitement or embarrassment, Angel’s face was flushing pinker as Alastor entered him again, and he curled all six limbs around the Radio Demon to keep him as close as possible.

Enjoying the hazy look in his beau’s eyes, his lips just a breath away from Angel’s, Alastor ordered softly, “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Yes, Daddy—”

“No. My name.”

“Alastor,” Angel moaned without restraint, fingers digging into his shoulders and his back. “I’m yours, Al. All yours. I…I meant what I said. About needin’ this from you. Not wantin’ it from anyone else. If that means I’m yours, then…I am.”

Alastor’s heart stumbled over itself, more from the painful sincerity in Angel’s voice than from the pleasurable friction still heating up his body. Unable to summon a proper response in words, he simply captured his beau’s lips for a deep kiss, swallowing every whimper and moan he coaxed from the spider’s mouth. When he finally broke away for a breath, Angel spoke breathlessly into his ear: “Faster, baby.”

In most cases, he felt that epithet would’ve bothered him, but the sweet, desperate tone in Angel’s voice made it feel like the highest of honors. “Whatever you need, mon amour.” He had to brace his hands against the table to give Angel what he asked for, but the extra effort was well worth it as his beau’s voice climbed higher, louder, testifying just how hot he was getting. “Touch yourself, Angel. I want to feel you cum for me.”

The spider let out a weak sound of anticipation and nodded firmly, lying back to slide one of his lower hands between his legs. His breath caught as his fingers rubbed in quick circles, his other hands staying tightly clenched on Alastor’s shirt as if he might try to stop again. Far from it; the Radio Demon was thoroughly enjoying watching his beau get closer and closer, feeling him tighten and tremble with pleasure. Angel’s spine arched, his voice strained as he gasped out, “I’m…close honey. Just—just a little more and…I’m… _God_ , yes!” He dropped his head back and moaned out loud when he reached his climax, his body squirming and bucking as he rode out his pleasure.

But Alastor wasn’t done with him yet. He kept up his rhythm through all Angel’s whining and writhing, fucking him throughout his orgasm, then as the spider’s weakened legs loosened around his waist, he slid his hands under Angel’s knees to press them forward against the table. The spider let out a squeal as Alastor exposed him that way, still blushing weakly and looking up with wide eyes. “A-Al, you’re not—” He shrieked as Alastor drove into him again, still hypersensitive and clearly struggling to cope. “Daddy! It’s so much!”

“Too much?” Alastor asked, pausing deep inside him. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! I toldja…not until you’re satisfied.”

“Good boy.” He found he could reach even deeper from this vantage and savored every exhausted cry from his beau’s lips as he picked up his pace and claimed everything Angel had to offer.

Somehow, seeing Angel so overwhelmed and eager to please him only made this better; when the spider asked, “Um. Is it okay if I cum again, Daddy?” Alastor couldn’t help the deeply satisfied grin that spread across his face.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Angel didn’t waste a second in starting to touch himself again, quickly losing whatever decorum he had left and begging for more with every breath, even drifting into Italian for a moment as if he were too focused on what he was feeling to monitor his own speech. _Adorable._ It didn’t take much more for him to cum again, and the candid stream of gratitude and supplication from his lips was just what Alastor needed to finish as well. He let out a ragged growl as he came, forcing his way as deep inside his beau as possible and staying there while they enjoyed every moment of ecstasy together.

Realizing he’d gotten a bit rough toward the end, he was careful about disengaging to avoid causing Angel any discomfort, and once he’d righted his clothing, he noticed that his beau was shaking much harder than usual, curled up tight on his back and obviously having a hard time of relaxing.

“Angel?” As Alastor pulled him into his arms, the spider still didn’t respond, only worrying him further. “Are you all right, mon cher? Did I hurt you?”

Angel managed a vague shake of his head, weakly trying to move closer. “J-just…hold me tighter,” he said, and Alastor gladly obliged, as if that could forcibly calm his shaking.

“You could’ve told me if you needed to stop,” he said gently, burying his face into his beau’s hair. Now that he’d expended all his animalistic urges, it was much easier to calm down and realize how demanding he had been. Of course, it was all intended to be playful and turn Angel on more—which it had, as far as could tell—but he might have taken it a little too far nevertheless.

“I’m okay, hon.” Angel rested heavily (as heavily as he could) against Alastor’s chest, the tension slowly but surely melting out of his taut limbs. “Just need a minute.” So Alastor gave him a minute, content to stay close by his side and hold him while offering soft words of affection and praise. When he finally recovered enough to sit up on his own, Angel treated him to a sweet smile and a soft, lingering kiss, reminding him all at once how much he cared for the gorgeous creature in front of him, how lucky he was to have Angel’s attention. Nodding toward the window, which looked out on a darkened sky, the spider pointed out, “It’s prob’ly gettin’ kinda late. We should get back to the hotel so Charlie doesn’t, y’know, worry or whatever.”

“Sounds good to me. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Retrieving Angel’s coat and panties to return them to him, Alastor teased, “You’ll probably want to put these back on, though.”

— — —

The lobby was, oddly enough, still fully lit as they returned to the hotel. Charlie, the only occupant of the space, paced back and forth in front of the stairs, with Vaggie conspicuously absent. As Angel and Alastor came inside, she looked up and visibly winced at the sight of them. Given the fact that they were both still blood-spattered, that was understandable.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked, wringing her hands. Angel held onto Alastor’s arm tighter, refusing to look anywhere near his co-manager.

“Of course. We ran into a little trouble earlier, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle,” Alastor assured her, already leading his beau toward the stairs so they could wash up—but before they could leave the room, Charlie called after him.

“Hey, Al. Can we talk for a minute?” Stealing a glance at Angel, she added, “Alone?”

Curious as to where this was going (based on the discomfort on Charlie’s face), he shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Angel, if you’d like to wait upstairs…?”

“Yeah, sure.” He squeezed Alastor’s hand gently, then left for the stairs without once looking at the princess. Once he was gone, Charlie beckoned Alastor into the conference room.

“Where were you two?” she asked, frowning as she shut the door behind them.

“Didn’t I tell you before we left? We were on the south side of town, visiting Angel’s friend.”

“And?” the princess insisted. “What were you doing out there? Why do you look like”—she gestured to his messy clothing—“that?”

“I’m fairly sure I already answered this question too.”

“Have you…have you been drinking?” Charlie asked, wrinkling her nose as if she could smell the gin on Alastor’s breath. This, he actually found himself a bit embarrassed by, but he tried to brush it off regardless.

“That’s neither here nor there. Anyway, there was a scuffle, and we got caught in the middle. Why is it bothering you so much?”

“Come on, Alastor. That fight was more than a ‘scuffle’ and we both know it.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raised as he considered how to respond. For the first time in quite a while, Charlie was actually working up the gumption to be angry, and since he’d had so little experience dealing with it, he wasn’t sure how to approach that side of her. “How did you know about it?”

“News like that travels pretty quickly. I heard it was bad. And that you and Angel were pretty significantly involved. Is that true?”

“Arguably,” Alastor said with a shrug. “But if eyewitness testimony is all we’re working against, surely it won’t be too difficult to sweep under the rug. I doubt it’ll harm the hotel’s reputation too much.”

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh. “Is that what you think this is about? The hotel’s reputation? Do you really think that’s why it bothers me?”

Again, the Radio Demon had to think about his answer for a moment. He certainly _had_ thought that was the issue, up until Charlie started suggesting otherwise. She and Vaggie had expressed a concern about Cherri involving them in another gang war, which was understandable, considering how poorly it reflected on the hotel and its cause. But this fight had been much smaller, involved fewer deaths, and only happened as a sort of self-defense. What was there to be so upset over?

“What I think is that you’re making a mountain out of a molehill,” Alastor said matter-of-factly. “Like you said yourself, there were no cameras present, and Angel and I were only minorly involved at best. I’m sure Venture will think of a way to spin this in a positive light, regardless, and—”

“That’s not the _point_!” Charlie snapped, her temper flaring enough to let her demonic nature show through for a moment before she got hold of it again and faded back into contained, simmering anger. “It doesn’t matter how we ‘spin’ it. It doesn’t matter how anyone else looks at it. You told me you would keep Angel out of trouble. I assumed that meant you would keep him from getting involved in anything that would compromise his rehabilitation.”

Alastor blinked. Then blinked again. That was why she was so distraught? Because Angel had been ‘sinning’? He couldn’t even summon a proper response as she continued on her tirade.

“Ever since the two of you got together, you’ve both been doing so well! Angel’s made such huge strides away from Gluttony and Lust; he doesn’t go out and get wasted with his clients anymore or try to seduce every man he meets. He’s been opening up to me more and more in our one-on-one sessions. Even _you’ve_ been more patient and thoughtful—you’ve both made so much progress! And then today…” Charlie dropped her head, her shoulders slumping as if she’d lost the will to be angry and was just (worse still) disappointed. “Then today you were both involved in this huge bloodbath and killed who knows how many demons without even thinking twice. Don’t you see how wrong that is?” She looked up at him in earnest, eyes shining with tears, and he hastily tore his gaze away from hers. He would not be affected by her crocodile tears or her unrealistic optimism. He would not be made to feel guilty for knowing what he was and not running from it.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” he answered reservedly.

“Yeah. That’s what I figured.” Charlie combed her hair back out of her eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds. “You still see this place as a joke, don’t you? Even after being here for months supporting it, getting involved in operations and actually, genuinely helping me pull it off…you still don’t believe in it.”

The silence that hung in the air between them was answer enough. Well, lying to her certainly wouldn’t do anyone any good. And really, he had never pretended to follow her happy little doctrine in the first place. From day one, he’d maintained his honest opinion about the hotel’s cause and its prospects clear. If she had expected him to change his mind, that was entirely her mistake.

“I don’t believe that Angel’s involvement in that fracas today hurt his chances at redemption, no. But I can’t say I think anything we’re doing here is helping them either,” he confessed. “It’s good of you to try, Charlie. It’s good for our patrons, even though most of them don’t deserve it. But that doesn’t mean it’s practical.”

Her brow furrowed, but she scrubbed away her tears before they could escape, clinging to anger to fend off sadness. One had to wonder where she’d learned a trick like that. “What about Angel? He’s worked so hard to improve himself; you can’t say he doesn’t deserve redemption. If you really cared about him, you would _want_ him to be—”

“D̦̰͉̺̳͠ͅͅo̧̦̲͓̭ ̯̝͟ _n̥̰̫̩̱̗̕oṱ̣͖_ ҉͚̥̦͕ͅt̢͕ͅe̸̳̠̙l̰̻̖͎͝l̖͙ ̣̲͎m̷e̸͍͎̪͙̥,” Alastor snarled, bristling at the suggestion behind her words, “w̨h̡at͠ I d̶o͜ or don’t care about. You know nothing about my relationship with him, and it’s not remotely your business.”

“I know you want what’s best for him.” Despite clearly being unnerved by the visual and auditory distortions surrounding Alastor’s person, she didn’t back down. “And I know getting into Heaven is the best anyone can hope for.”

“The best a mortal could hope for, maybe, but this is not Earth, and it never will be. You are no shepherd, and these demons are not your flock.” He wasn’t even sure why he was being so harsh, other than as a defense mechanism, like a wounded animal. His feelings for Angel—which were, in themselves, a weakness—had been at best insulted, at worst threatened, and his instincts said that warranted a counterattack. Striding across the room to the window on the far wall, he threw open the drapes to display the miserable wasteland that was Hell: the ramshackle buildings, the violent inhabitants, the ubiquitous advertisements for whatever sins one could possibly wish to indulge. Gesturing to the sickening tableau, he told Charlie firmly, “This is the world you rule, princess. These are the people you’re trying to help. And do you think any of them _believe_ in your precious ideals?”

“If they didn’t, the hotel wouldn’t already be full,” she argued, still standing her ground but beginning to lose the battle with the tears in her eyes. And seeing them welling, Alastor was compelled to push harder still.

“Please. Most of your patrons see you as a meal ticket or are simply bored. No one here actually thinks what you’re trying to do is possible.” Turning back toward the window, hands folded behind his back, he went on casually, “And why should they? All they have to go on is the dream of a child who hasn’t yet proven she’s capable of making it reality. What’s there to believe in?”

A few more seconds passed in heavy silence. Alastor could easily picture the look on Charlie’s face, could even hear her struggling to control her breathing, but he didn’t look at her. When she spoke, her voice was perfectly even, not betraying even a hint of the tears she was still fighting back. “No one’s forcing you to stay. In fact, if you’re going to keep compromising my patrons, I might have to ask you to leave.”

Before he could ask whether that was a threat, she left the room, slamming the door behind her harder than he would’ve thought possible with her slim frame. Alastor remained exactly where he was, maintaining his smile through sheer force of will, staring out at the city without really seeing it. Although it took a moment, his fight or flight response (typically stuck on the ‘fight’ setting) eventually calmed down enough for him to think about what he’d just said.

Everything he’d said about the hotel was true enough, but his personal attacks on Charlie’s character were unnecessary—and frankly, inaccurate. _What’s there to believe in?_ The same thing that had always been there: Charlie’s resolve and tenacity. Her refusal to walk away from ‘her people’ while they were all, without exception, suffering. Even if ill-advised, that determination was commendable. Yet Alastor had just told her the very opposite as cruelly as possible in the hopes of getting out of a difficult conversation. To pretend he was beyond reproach. To avoid addressing his feelings toward Angel.

All of the above.

_Coward._

He wandered out of the conference room and stood in the darkened lobby for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. Should he approach Charlie and say something? Apologize, no matter how violently ill the word made him? There weren’t many people in the world who could make him feel guilty, but what else could he call the cold, heavy pit in his stomach? Whatever he’d expected when he’d first come to the hotel, this was not it.

While he stood there lost in his own thoughts, the front door opened quietly, and someone else entered. The tap of tall heels gave away the newcomer’s identity before he saw her, and he glanced up to find Venture shaking her hair out of its ponytail, sighing, looking utterly exhausted. Considering how rarely she displayed emotions like that, he could only assume the feeling was extreme.

“And…?” he prompted mildly, without even the energy to scold her. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Without bothering to meet his eyes, without smiling, without a hint of charm or mirth in her voice, she thrust a pristine white sheet of paper at his chest and told him plainly, “You’re welcome.” Her stride never broke as she continued toward the stairs. At any other time, he would’ve been terribly curious as to what had happened to make her act so unlike herself, but at the moment, he simply couldn’t muster the strength to care. Looking down at the paper she’d given him, he skimmed over the first few lines.

_I, Anthony Dellarosa, under the conditions outlined herein, bestow ownership of my soul to_

Alastor’s eyes grew wide, and he quickly realized the edges of the page had started to smolder upon his reading Valentino’s name. After hastily extinguishing the sparks, he realized exactly what the document in his hands was: a copy of the contract between Angel and his employer. _How on Earth—is this what she was doing with Velvet?_ To think he’d been suspicious of her motivations!

Part of him was miffed that she’d taken this step without saying a word to him or Angel first, but it only took a moment for him to realize how stupid a complaint that was when she’d obviously done him a significant favor. It wasn’t as if he would’ve had any way of obtaining this information on his own. So he resolved to simply owe her a favor in return, whether she asked him to repay it or not.

When he got upstairs, Angel was pacing uncertainly by the bed, wringing his hands. “She was pissed, wasn’t she? Fuck, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into that shit with Cherri’s gang.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, cher. You didn’t force me into anything,” Alastor assured him. “We were attacked and defended ourselves. Charlie’s likely just upset we didn’t try to _reason_ with those imps before resorting to violence. She’ll get over it soon enough.”

“Maybe. I guess.” Gesturing to the paper in his hands, Angel added, “What’s that?”

With a confident grin, Alastor answered, “Your ticket to freedom.”


End file.
